Every Hug
by TheProblematique
Summary: The first time was involuntary, I am certain. He did not walk toward me so much as fall against me, body crumpling in a graceful arch. I remained still, unsure of how to proceed. "You're alive" he breathed, so softly that only I could have heard him.
1. Chapter 1

**Every Hug – by The Problematique**

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**The First Time**

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The first time was involuntary, I am certain of it. He did not walk toward me so much as fall against me, body crumpling in a graceful arch. I initially believed he must have lost consciousness.

But he had not.

He rested his face against the curve of my deltoid and trapezius muscles and breathed deeply as though inhaling life itself from the base of my neck. I remained still, unsure of how to proceed. We stood alone among a mass of bodies, fallen comrades and enemies alike, and Mr Scott would beam us out at any second.

"You're _alive,_" he said finally, lips caressing my earlobe, so softly that another Human could not have heard him, only me.

He was stating a fact, however I did not know why he needed to say it out loud. I did not answer, as he had not asked a question, either. It was obvious that I lived and it was evident that he did not doubt that… anymore.

My body remained tense throughout the duration of this strange new gesture on Jim's part, strange because he was familiar with my personal preferences and often (not always) respected them. And tense because I was not comfortable with the touch, so much of it, everywhere. The surface of contact pressed every line of his body against mine, crowding me with skin and thoughts I had to block out as decorum dictated, even in my exhausted state when mental strength was not optimal.

I soon began to feel overwhelmed. Engulfed, surrounded.

And as the seconds passed and he still did not let me go I sensed my composure slipping, slowly, leaving me with the beginnings of panic, because I was not in control now, not anymore, and my fear only served to frighten me further, it was the beginning of the spiral, the _losing_ of my _mind_…

"I'm sorry, Spock," he said then, his voice pained, tortured, wretched.

Somehow this gave me sufficient strength. I did not speak, however I was able to separate my physical reactions from my thought process, and take a calming breath. Jim's voice reminded me that this was _him_, that I must not give in. My focus returned, the spiral stopped spinning, and I mentally pulled back, pulled away, detached. Calm. In control.

If I analyzed this unusual situation, I could easily explain to myself why my reaction had been so negative. Rationally, there was a level of intimacy to this very _Human_ contact I was not accustomed to, not with another person with whom there existed no previous romantic involvement. Furthermore it had come at an unexpected time, so it was natural that I was not prepared to deal with it accordingly.

I was aware, of course, of the fact that Human friends often embraced, however I had never expected such interactions to happen between Jim and I. Did this make us friends?

It was not a negative thought. It was curiously... logical. The next step in our interactions. We had become friends. Jim was my friend.

I felt his lips move against the skin on my shoulder as he spoke. I felt-

"I- I'm gonna pull away soon okay? I'm very sorry. Just… give me a moment. Please. Give me… this." His voice was rough and low.

I did not reply this time either, but it was because I could not.

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**This will be a collection of scenes between our boys hugging that will show the progress of their relationship as it changes... and evolves :D The chapters themselves will be short (but slightly longer than this one, and probably not as angsty. Then again, this is Spock's POV, and boy is _he _****difficult to write with humour). Kind of like little glimpses into Spock's thoughts.**

**Is it very lame to use that segway and ask for a little glimpse of your thoughts? *wink wink nudge nudge***

**I have decided that reviews are awesomesauce. Why? Well, I learnt this word not a few days ago and DECIDED it. Fun, yes?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Every Hug**

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**The Second Time**

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I had decided to study the Human embrace in it's many forms and variations, the surprisingly interesting number of emotions involved in such contact between two Human beings, and the connotations that could be associated with it.

All in perfect detail.

From a purely professional viewpoint, of course, this action was entirely logical. In the event that Jim should decide to repeat the experience, it would be negligent not to prepare myself.

I sat at my quarters, having determined that the most rational procedure in this instance would be not to arouse suspicion among the science department as to why I necessitated such research in the first place. The crew was prone to speculation, especially since the relationship between myself and Nyota had terminated, despite the fact that she remained a valuable and important variable in my life.

The results I found were most curious.

Apparently, according to our archives, I must first attempt to comprehend the meaning of a "reassuring physical touch". I had never needed a physical touch to feel calm. Quite the contrary, one might argue. Nor did I presume to understand what "wordless comfort" meant, either. They were both rather fascinatingly complex concepts that required my prolonged attention and careful study.

If one was to literally analyse a hug, there were several aspects to consider: strength, duration, surface of contact, intent. The most common intent, according to the database, was comfort.

And here was where I encountered my first problem.

I did not believe Jim's intention had been to comfort me. During the Narada incident Nyota had, at various occasions, clearly attempted this, yet we were romantically involved at the time. Obviously the parameters did not apply here; I was quite certain Jim had no romantic interest in me, despite his frequent jokes and occasional suggestions, compliments to my appealing physique, or sexual advances (some of which I was not even aware of until I was informed of their real meaning much later in the day, usually by Nyota or Mr Scott, although occasionaly Dr McCoy would take the initiative, and then, for reasons unknown, _laugh_).

Also, Jim could not read my thoughts, and could not have anticipated my needs even had he been able to because, as I said, I did not require physical comfort. It had seemed to me, through the confusing, extremely powerful yet contradicting emotions spilling out of Jim's mind, that _he_ was the one seeking reassurance.

Jim's thoughts were always fascinating to study, despite the fact that I very rarely had the chance to touch his skin and hear them from the source for myself. Such intricate, complex patterns, shot through with the impulses and flashes of Human instinct that I did not entirely understand. I found myself wishing, at times, for a more extended contact between us so that I could observe Jim's mind properly.

In conclusion, I did not find sufficient data in order to justify or comprehend Jim's behaviour.

Then again, this was Jim Kirk. I should not have expected to.

"Spock?"

I turned around, immediately shutting off the computer. Jim stood in my doorway, having used his Captain's override codes yet not entering, a contradicting action.

"Yes, Captain?"

Jim's eyes darted uncomfortably around the room, seemingly looking at everything in it except me, or my bed in the corner. Most curious.

I stood, waiting his response. It did not seem to be forthcoming.

"_Yes_, Captain?" I repeated, thinking perhaps he had not heard me.

Jim cleared his throat, and walked inside. He wore his red exercise shorts and a grey shirt plastered onto his skin by sweat, signalling he came from the gymnasium. He appeared to have run here as well, if his short, gasping breaths were anything to go by.

Again, most curious.

"I'm really sorry about last week. It was very inappropriate and I can't imagine how a touch telepath feels about hugging, but I'm sure it wasn't a comfortable experience for you, and I'm sorry, again, uh, said that already, oh well, I'm saying it again, I'm sorry, eh, because it was stupid and selfish of me not to think of you and I'm sorry."

He spoke extremely quickly, and I spared a fleeting second to ponder whether another Human would have even been able to comprehend his meaning.

"I accept your apology, Captain. Do not trouble yourself."

Jim's shoulders, which had been stiff until now, relaxed, and he exhaled profoundly. The action caused his stomach muscles to loosen, and a tension around his wide blue eyes to disappear.

"Great. Okay." He smiled a disturbingly bright smile, and I marvelled once again at the emotion Humans allowed into their expressions. Then I quickly turned around, facing away from him, thinking the conversation was over, and leaned over my table to reach behind the console and switch it back on.

Only to jolt in shock, as I felt Jim's arms encase my body, his mouth graze my jaw, lashes brushing my cheekbones, hands pressed onto my chest, aligning us together, bending over me in a position that was entirely... utterly... thoroughly... extremely... _unsuitable_.

However it was so instantaneous, so fleeting and swift that I barely had to time to collect myself and study the touch, before he hastily stepped away from my back and I turned to face him once more, letting some of my confusion show in my features.

He breathed heavily and I was startled to find that I did too, having no reason whatsoever to explain myself.

I did not ask the question aloud, but Jim often seemed to know my thoughts without me needing to voice them, and this time was no exception.

"_Shit_." Jim was staring down at the floor as though he didn't understand himself either. "Oh, hell. I'm _so _sorry. I don't… I… it won't happen again, I promise. I mean, not _ever _again, after this, which I didn't even... _shit_."

It would eventually transpire, of course, that this sentence turned out to be false, but I could not muster relief even at the time when I believed the lie to be true.

"I think it would be a great idea if I left now."

"As you wish, Captain."

After that he flashed a rueful smile at me and quickly exited my quarters.

Long after he was gone, I remained looking at the closed door, his smell clinging to my skin, attempting to rationalise my Captain's behaviour.

Needless to say, I did not succeed.

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**Guys, I think I'm **_**objectifying**_** Jim.**

**He's either half-naked (or, um, totally naked), or sweaty, or covered in dirt, or, you know, other porny stuff, in my every other fic! *shakes fist at Kirk* Why is he so hot? He looks too good and then imagination… just… runs wild! Lesigh, oh well, I hope there aren't many objections to this treatment of an otherwise awesome, smart brave guy? ;)**

**Also, reviews? :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Every Hug**

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**The ****Third Time**

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The third time, I was in the transporter room, waiting for the Captain to return from a dangerous and high-risk First Contact with a previously unknown species. They were not a peaceful society, and the Federation had asked both the _Enterprise_ and another vessel, the _Kepler V_, to monitor the situation, and try and avoid an escalation of violence. However, we had been unable to prevent attack, and I had organised an abrupt rescue mission of our people still on-planet.

It was fortunate that everybody else had already come through, and Jim was the last person. Obviously he had been waiting to ensure every member of the away-team was safe before thinking of himself.

The Chief Engineer was not at his station and nor, in fact, was anybody else; we had suffered severe engine damage and I had managed to convince Mr Scott that the most logical course of action was to take his men down to the Engine Room and let me command his post, as I could easily do a few simple operations and teleport Jim to safety.

So by now the room was empty but for me and, hopefully (I would never have admitted it to any being, and yet felt it in my very core: I was silently, impossibly hopeful) Jim would arrive soon.

Providing he was still alive, of course.

I was able to triangulate his signal, but resisted the urge to call the bridge and ask Nyota for his vitals, knowing it was best not to distract her in the middle of a crisis with something I would soon learn either way.

And so I waited.

Seconds passed without results, and then a flicker. I immediately saw it and identified it, it meant he was here, he was coming, and then for some reason as the bright lights drew Jim's shining form in the air it became easier to breathe in and breathe out.

"Jim?"

He stepped forward, swayed, then righted himself. There was blood on his ear and neck, as if from a cranial blow, but it did not appear to be severe. I do not presume to know why, then, given that Jim was no longer in danger, my rapid pulse increased even more, distressed by this sight.

"_Jim_." I said again. His gaze immediately fell on me, as he registered the sound of my voice. "Captain, are you-?"

But I was not able to finish my inquiry as Jim released a breath, closed his eyes, and said only: "_Spock._"

And then he sprinted toward me and did not stop, his eyes intense and so very _blue_, until his body slammed against mine. What was different about this time was that I knew it was going to happen the moment before it happened.

I had time to think, seconds to a Vulcan were sufficient time to think many thoughts at once, in fact, and I had more than enough of those between the time I realised what Jim was doing and the time he actually... did it.

He was running toward me with one intent clearly in his mind, despite the fact that he had previously announced a contrary disposition to such actions in our future. I could not deny the immediate thought in my own mind; that I had no negative reactions whatsoever to the breaking of Jim's word, _I did not care_. He had lied, but I was not... dissapointed.

What I could deny was the thought following this one; in fact I supressed and smothered it so quickly I barely processed it. The thought that my reaction went _beyond _not being dissapointed.

I could have done many things, and every outcome I processed seemed desirable from a professional stand-point. Jim and I must maintain a professional relationship. Yes, I had accepted we had become friends by Human standards, and that aspect in our interactions brought me more calm and reassurance than I could have imagined. However, that was as far as I must allow myself to feel.

Feeling... such a simple word.

My superior strength meant I did not fall down, as any other Human would have surely done, when he crashed into me; instead we remained upright and he locked his arms around me, pressing my chest to his. Once again he took a deep, shuddering breath at the base of my neck, as if to reassure himself by smelling my skin that I was really there, although that entire construct is completely and utterly illogical.

This time there was much more contact between us; every line of our bodies not just aligned, but _crushed _together. This was... much closer. Everything seemed... more. More of his breath, so cool and soothing, down my back. More of his body, holding so strongly that had I been Human I am quite certain I would have sustained severe muscle tissue damage. This was more raw, frayed, more bloody, as the thick liquid would leave a bright mark on my shoulder and clavicle that later no one would question, although I knew that every person had easily realised where it had come from.

Jim practically stood above the ground, as his feet were on tiptoe, and he leaned entirely into me, onto me, with me.

One with me.

He did not speak again but I could feel him breathing hard because I could feel the press of his lungs expanding and his heartbeat loud and fast and thundering in my hears.

I once more felt trapped in his embrace, but despite the fact that I could have pushed him away had I so desired…

I did not.

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**Aw. Oblivious!Boys will be oblivious. But not for long... (I mean, unless they have superpowers of obliviousness. 'Cause... WOW, guys!)**

**And reviews will be awesome. **

**Sauce ;)**

**Yes, I am not ashamed of my addiction, and remember, the first step is admitting you have a Problem. I just... don't wanna do anything about it :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Every Hug**

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**The Fourth Time**

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"Let me… _please_ let me just get it together and I'll let you go…"

The fourth time was the first time I put my arms around him as well. Carefully, and gently, I laid my flat palms against his back, knowing how inappropriate the gesture was but discarding any counter-arguments as irrelevant. Jim needed me, he was saying as much. There was something in his voice, something vulnerable that I knew he would never let the rest of the crew see or hear.

Because I could not deny it anymore, I had the empirical evidence to support me: Jim did not hug anybody else.

I did not know why I was to always be the exception. I did not understand it; it remained one of the many, many things I did not understand about Jim.

_Why am I the only one who is allowed to glimpse into your mind when you cannot hold yourself together anymore? Why am I the only person you trust to see…? _

_If you feel broken, Jim, Captain, friend… why do I heal you? _

_How do I help you, if it seems to me like I barely do anything at all? Why do you look more like yourself after this strange new routine that I do not understand? _

_That I _cannot_ understand, Jim? _

_Because what help might I possibly be to you, when we hardly speak about it, when all you do is ask me, without words, to hold you in my arms?_

I thought this so strongly it was as if I had forgotten Jim was not a telepath, as if I was hoping to convey the thought through the touch we shared alone. This question that he could not hear, and would never know because I refused to express it out loud and therefore acknowledge it's existence… it was simpler to banish it from my mind and carefully forget the strange reactions that accompanied it. But…

_But w__hy me, Jim?_

Jim was _shaking _in my arms, exhaustion and sadness and perhaps relief that our lives had been spared causing his body to spasm against mine. No one had embraced me in this way before. Not… never quite like this, with such desperation, such force, such weariness. So I held him firmly, to lessen the shivers, to lessen his pain, focusing my mind sharply and solely on him, foregoing my own reactions, to be examined at another time.

It was not… an unpleasant experience. It was certainly a new one. I knew I must be careful as Jim always evoked many emotions in me, but for the first time since these strange encounters began, the feelings of surprise and the urge to recoil were not among them. I did not even think of pushing Jim away, I did not need to fight my desire for space, for solitude.

Perhaps being together with Jim was logical. As friends, of course. Friendship, after all, was not compatible with solitude. It was in this moment, when for the first time in my life I reciprocated such a Human gesture so completely, that I thought… I would never be alone as long as Jim was by my side.

When he did eventually pull away his eyes shone with gratitude, as if I had conveyed a special, precious gift to him.

A gift I feared I would never understand.

I was forced to remember frustration was a Human emotion.

"I'm sorry." He began apologising the moment our eyes met. "Did it hurt? How's your side? That's where the fucking bastards were aiming at, right? Your heart? I'm _so_ sorry. Did I… hold you too hard? I'm sorry, Spock, I'm so sorry, forgive me… please forgive this… this wretched… I can't… control… I want to stop but it's so… fucking _hell_, I don't even…"

For a moment I could not speak. That shine in his eyes… it had spilled down his face.

Jim was _crying_.

"Jim, you must cease this most illogical reaction." I said immediately, appalled.

He wiped his face roughly with his burnt, dirty sleeve. It smeared dust and grime over his tense, set features. It did not diminish the force of his burning gaze.

"Didn't exactly do it on purpose, did I?" He mumbled, but the tears stopped after he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Jim." I spoke with firm conviction, all the better to make him see sense once more, knowing the Enterprise needed him back. And I did too.

As his first officer.

But also as his friend.

"Jim, I am going to recover fully. Dr McCoy has already stated as much, and although I would be most grateful if you did not inform him of my next confession, I must admit there have been certain occasions when he has not been wrong."

This made Jim abruptly laugh, and the tightness around his eyes to disappear. I inexplicably felt my own worries melt away with the sound.

A most curious reaction.

"Man, you're really _something_, aren't you, Spock?"

"… I do not understand the complexities of Human jokes sometimes, Jim. Is this question rhetorical?"

The smile after this was bright as a supernova, and reminiscent of his more usual behaviour. In turn, my own answering smile was even more difficult to contain. This was beginning to form a most curious _pattern_. A pity I knew I must not convince Jim to stay, and further study his effects on me.

"Thank you, Spock."

I was about to ask what for.

And then I knew.

"Goodbye, Captain."

"I'll come back, you know. Check up on you. Make sure you're being a good little boy down here."

"I do not doubt it."

"Good."

With a parting smile he left my private medical room to go back to the bridge and resume his duties. I noted that his stance was determined, firm, and commanding, as though his calm confidence had been restored once more. How, I did not know, but I was very aware that this was the opposite of when he had run into the Sickbay like a lost, wounded animal, shouting my name.

However, despite his eased manner, he had obviously regretted his actions. Regretted the embrace, regretted the impulse.

I was not even surprised when I realised that I did not.

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***blinks***

**Huh. I think this is actually my favourite hug so far. I know the angst-meter went sliiiiightly overboard but... uh, I like it :)**

**Also... rrrrrrrreeeeeeevieeeeeeew? *makes puppy-dog eyes***

**(oh, if only I had the awesome power of Jim's baby-blue-eyes on my side! Must. Steal. Chris. Pine!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Every Hug**

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**The ****Fifth Time**

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And then it changed.

As I did not possess much experience in relation to the Human embrace, I cannot say with absolute certainty how I knew that the fifth time was different from the others.

We had been captured on an away mission and thrown into a jail-cell. Our captors had threatened to kill us if the ransom for our safety was not paid, and they demanded high-clearance security codes of protected areas in the Alpha Quadrant. True to their integrity and honour, and following Jim's instructions, the crew had not obliged.

We were to die.

It was not an ordinary jail-cell, however. A strange contraption that seemed an oddly familiar combination of mechanical devices (constructed using crude, obviously stolen pieces of machinery) was built into one of the walls. At the moment it was charging with a high-pitched sound that made a sharp pain spike through my head, and severely lessened my capacity for concentration and focus. I was unable to study it properly or even identify it, in order to attempt to disable it before it was too late.

Jim was looking at me, concern etched into his gleaming features, but there was no time to explain.

Suddenly, with a deafening explosion, the machine burst to life.

"No!"

Jim's cry rent the air but I knew it could not stop the inevitable. I was closest to the wall, and all I could do was whip around to look at him, my final act, my ending, by Jim's side.

And then I was engulfed in flames.

But I was not burning.

"_Spock_!" Jim screamed my name, his voice terrible and frightening, so anguished, so completely _destroyed_ that I could not speak for a moment, tell him I was alive.

The flames were not real. Since I seemed to have momentarily lost my ability to use my vocal chords, I took a careful step toward the direction where I imagined Jim still stood. His elegant, muscled silhouette became visible after a mere 0.734 metres forward, and I was finally able to whisper: "Jim."

He did not hear me, as I had known he could not, because I spoke too softly for Human ears and there was a loud roar now coming from the generator that would prevent my voice reaching him.

But then why had I spoken at all?

"Spock?" He shouted over the noise, which I now thought must be an added sound effect rather than the product of actual fire. In all likelihood the pirates had taped our alleged death to frighten or lessen crew morale.

"Jim."

Our surroundings had become confusing; bright and flickering holographic fire, but I could see his face when he turned in my direction, even if at first he could not see mine.

The emotion bursting from his tone when he'd spoken my name had been so raw that I realised I had responded emotionally to it; his feeling awakening me to feel also. In the moment before he became aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him, I attempted a brief exercise of restraint and control, to school my features into a proper, calm expression, that Jim would not see…

"Spock!"

Jim reached out an arm blindly in my direction, which I caught in my hand, and pulled so that we stood close enough that his Human eyes would enable him to discern my figure.

"You're _alive_!"

"Clearly."

"Spock!" He shouted again, and I was unable to define his purpose in stating my name.

But then Jim yelled triumphantly and punched the air, and said "Yes!" and thanked several deities with which I was not familiar, his body shivering with the excess adrenaline, and I could not look away from the sight of his pure, vivid _joy_.

I watched him carefully as he whooped and jumped among the projected images that were not real yet nevertheless had us trapped in this imagined inferno. And to my utter astonishment I could not draw a single breath as Jim seemed almost to dance, his movements all energy and ecstasy and life and laughter, and then he looked at me.

He was bathed in fire and happiness, uncontrollable, completely wild in that instant when, for the first time, the power behind his eyes was unleashed completely onto the world and I was the only one there to see it. They shone with tears, ablaze, sparkling in the flickering lights around us and suddenly I caught myself wondering whether the heat from the hologram could somehow be real.

I could not move, and could not speak, and did not, nor would I had I been able to, object to it when he purposefully walked back toward me and wrapped his body around mine.

Because it was not just his arms that encased me this time, it was somehow _more_, it was all of Jim; his breath against my ear and his cool skin under my fingers but also his happiness flowing into my mind with frightening clarity, glorious, golden, so powerful. It was _everything_, and the feeling of being utterly surrounded by one person came back, as it had startled me the first time Jim held me, but it was not choking this time, not too much.

I felt him smile against my collar, just as clearly as I could see the flaming lights creating rivulets and patterns on his smooth, broad back where my hands had come to rest upon, seemingly of their own accord, fingers splayed in a way that no Vulcan should have ever done.

"It's okay, Spock. We're alive." Jim said softly, as though he was trying to soothe my worries, and with a contented sigh he tightened his hold around me, pressing our chests and hips tight and together, breathing deeply and burying his face in it's usual place at my neck.

Usual. Yes, perhaps this was becoming usual. But he had never hugged me with happiness before. There was no fear now, no pain or desperation, just relief, just euphoria, and perhaps we would escape, and we could keep doing this, again, perhaps…

"Spock?"

But I was once more unable to speak. This time, however, the cause was… emotion.

A wave, a welling up of tremendous force, untameable, _blissful_, shooting through me from head to toe and making my entire body shiver. I could not speak because I was being consumed, by the fire and by Jim and by the feelings of euphoria fizzing and boiling underneath my skin, choking me with their sudden appearance that I had not anticipated, could not control…

His arms had encased my arms as well, but with my superior strength it was very easy to lift them and slide my own around his lower back in a swift movement. I had never done this before, but relied on my more Human instincts to press him to me, even lifting him up slightly, while my Vulcan mind wondered: was it possible that we could reach a point where we would no longer be able to get any _closer_?

I found myself inhaling Jim's scent sharply, and perhaps even a little dizzied, trying to reel in the thrills echoing in my body while at the same time reveling in them. I smiled widely, feeling the joy on my face, the elation and rapture all there for no one to see.

And so, the fifth time was also the first time I held him just as strongly as he held me, even though I did not know what it was that possessed me to reciprocate the gesture so suddenly and make him gasp in surprise but not in protest, although I held him more tightly than was perhaps acceptable or normal, except that I have never been afraid of breaking Jim, Jim was not fragile.

Jim was fire.

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**So.**

**I have decided I will not be asking for reviews in this chapter. Nope, I've been nagging you guys every single time, and this time, I'm giving you a break. Yup, and a well-earned one at that, because your comments were adorable, and also, I think YOU are all adorable. So you can review if you want, or not, you know, whatever. I am being aloof and chill about the whole thing.**

**"Reverse psychology"? What is this? I... no, don't look at me, I don't even know what that means! **

**What do you MEAN "it's obvious what you're doing, and it's probably not going to work"??? OF COURSE IT WILL WORK!!!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Every**** Hug**

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**The Sixth**** Time**

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The bridge was crowded with technicians, maintenance staff and the three engineers Mr Scott had managed to spare. The _Enterprise_ had taken two severe hits, the second of which had caused a system overload, and the circuits to burst right in front of us. Two crewmembers had had to report to Sickbay, although thankfully they did not sustain severe injuries.

I stood at my post, attempting to salvage as much information from the console as I could, and update the files from the science department.

It was then that I turned around for no apparent reason and I saw the Captain, looking at me.

"Meester Spock! Could you help me with ze voice analysis, I am afraid with ze damage to the comm system it's not functioning wery well, I must-"

"Of course, Mr Chekov." I crossed the distance over to the ensign and quickly spoke the security code.

"Thank you." The young man said over his shoulder, turning back instantly to manipulate the controls in order to make the shipwide announcement.

I nodded and turned to walk back to my station.

However, another glance in Jim's direction made me pause in the middle of the bridge. He was standing in the exact same position as before, and his eyes were still on me. An unusual and strange action.

"_Ze Captain wishes to inform all crewmembers zat there haf been no casualties_." No one was looking our way, every person thoroughly engaged in their own work. "_Repeat, no casualties in the battle, only some mechanical difficulties, and Mr Scott and his teams are fixing ze damage as well as they can. Which is wery well_." Jim's stance suggested he was about to break into a sprint. "_A course has been plotted and laid in to return to Earth Colony II, where more extensif repairs await. Lt. Chekov out_."

Instead of running, however, Jim started walking toward me with calm, contained energy. There was no mistaking his intent, the tense set of his broad shoulders, the clenched jaw. It was the first time I had seen him look like this even though there were people in the same room.

But as he drew closer, I realised it was not _exactly_ the same… the intensity was flickering, quivering, dying.

When he finally drew level with me I was able to give name to the sensation invading my nervous system: anticipation. Not only did I think he was going to embrace me yet again, I desired it. I believe I was, in fact, so wanting of it that my feelings went beyond the emotional charge I usually associated with want, and would qualify as a _need_; as I needed nutrition, or periodic rest, or oxygen.

I had never needed physical contact, before.

Neither of us spoke.

But then Jim, as was his usual, surprised me.

He seemed about to initiate the embrace, of that I was certain, as his arms slowly reached toward me, hands shaking with the effort of control. I did not move, as I had not moved since he caught my eye and started walking my way.

I waited.

And then he simply… did not. He appeared to struggle with himself for a few moments, resisting the impulse by curling his fingers into fists and biting his lip. We stood facing each other like this and still without saying a word until, finally, Jim looked up and gave me a hesitant yet bracing smile, and walked on, his arm brushing mine as he passed by my side.

I did not turn to look behind me, I could only look forward and attempt to impose a structural organisation frame onto the mass of churning, deep emotions being stirred by Jim's actions… Jim's _lack_ of actions. There was an odd, sinking feeling in my chest and a profound emptiness, as well as a bitterness in my tongue.

I believed I was wanting again, but this time I was wanting something that had been denied to me. Something I could not have.

I missed the embrace.

I was _sad_.

"Spock?"

Nyota was carrying four datapads in her arms, and looked concerned. Her hair had been singed slightly at the tips when the electricity had surged from the controls at her station.

"May I assist you, Nyota?"

"No, I've got this. It's just… are you okay?"

I nodded, although that was a lie. I was _lying_.

"Okay, we can talk after this is all over. Lunch tomorrow?" She clumsily shifted the devices onto one arm and extended the other toward me, slowly, warily. I had forgotten this was how she used to touch me before, even when we were romantically involved; with care and gentleness, yes, but also fear. Hesitation.

That was not how Jim touched me.

"Certainly, however I must now depart," I said, suddenly arriving to a conclusion, and turned to go in the direction Jim had taken, hoping he had not entered the turbolift yet.

"Okay." She called, but I was already walking away, then breaking into a run, needing Jim to know what I had just realised.

"Captain." I projected my voice to a volume appropriate to a Human's hearing. So, loudly.

"Spock?"

Jim was very shocked at my appearance, I could see the clear signs of surprise in his face. The corridor was empty but for us.

"If you wished to touch me as you have done before, Captain, I would not have any objections."

I was taken aback instantly, because even having not planned much of an introduction, I had not expected to just state my new decision in such an abrupt manner.

Jim appeared to have a similar reaction, as his eyes widened, reflecting light in a disconcerting, shockingly _blue_ way so they appeared to shine from within (obviously a physiological impossibility).

"I… I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You are deriving from your usual pattern, I was naturally concerned-"

"_Concerned_?"

"-for your well-being, and feel obligated to inform you of the fact that, was your desire still to… did you wish to continue following the routine, I would not be adverse to it."

"You would not be adverse to _what_?"

He already knew the answer. Yet he was postponing the moment when he would have to acknowledge that fact. Fascinating.

"To the observation of your customary Human gesture when we have survived a particularly traumatising experience, Jim."

He swallowed.

"I do not object to your embracing me."

The pause was long, and Jim took several deep breaths, his eyes intent upon the floor, blinking in what seemed to be disbelief. I was beginning to feel a dull ache in my muscles, possibly due to the fact that they were taunt and tense for no apparent reason, as I had already decided I was _not_ nervous about approaching Jim with this subject. He would know the proposition was not romantic in nature, simply friendly in content.

We were friends. Hugging was a part of the Human friendship. The logical conclusion was to maintain this routine, for Jim, of course, because he was Human and derived comfort from the contact.

And I... I was finally forced to conclude that I did too. My Vulcan repulsion for physical contact had been utterly overtaken by my Human need, yes, need for it.

"Let me get this straight." Jim said finally, a hopeful gleam in his gaze. "You're saying you'll let me hug you from now on? That it never bothered you?"

A very intelligently phrased question. He knew, of course, what he was asking.

"I admit to being… unaccustomed to the gesture in the past, and upon it's initial happening, was unprepared."

Jim nodded, the gleam vanishing immediately. "And I'm really sorry about that-"

"However I am now no longer opposed to it and it would not be inconvenient to me in the future. Should you wish it." I added.

"I see. Okay." He took a hesitant step toward me, then another, more firm. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes, you need not restrain your actions anymore. I believe that is what you did on the bridge, and felt it was my duty to inform you that it will no longer be necessary."

Suddenly he smiled a playful little smile. "Is this your awesomely convoluted way of asking for a hug now, Spock?"

"Of _course_ not. I was merely expressing my thoughts to you in order to enable you to come to a suitable conclusion regarding your_ own_ preferences."

"Oh, I see. Of course. Something as Human as a hug between two friends just sails right over your head." He took yet another step toward me, we would soon be touching.

"That was not accurately phrased, as the metaphor implies I am not able to understand-"

"But you don't. You yourself said that. Many times. And you just said now that you'd let me hug you, but _you'll_ never want a hug. Or need one for yourself. Right? That would be illogical, wouldn't it?"

What I never did understand was how Jim could smile while we argued. It seemed as though while my frustration increased, so did his glee.

"I do not object to the embrace." I repeated.

"Then that kind of implies that you like it."

"It does not, in fact."

"So it leaves you totally indifferent?" Now Jim's smile morphed into something more vulnerable. Of course anybody who wasn't me would not be able to see through his deliberate charm, or, without my superior hearing, detect the soft cadences in his voice, the slight hesitation before he claimed I was indifferent. "You don't feel a little bit more comforted? Nothing feels a little bit better?"

"That is not what I said either."

"But you'd rather French-kiss my CMO than admit it, right?" The return of his happiness was so sudden that I could not conceal the shock in my face as the image of Jim's words formed, unbidden, in my mind, and I felt utterly horrified (the sensation was similar to when I was poisoned by the mud-slugs of Panthemos III and could not ingest any food for fear of regurgitating it).

My expression made Jim laugh so exuberantly he had to clutch my arm for support.

"Oh my God, I'm pulling this video from the security feeds and making a poster out of your face, Spock, and then I'm hanging it in my quarters right above my bed, so I can look at it every night before I go to sleep."

"... That would be most illogical."

"If I ever have a bad day, or just need something to cheer me up, I can think of that look on your face and crack up. No joke."

"Well it is always a pleasure to be the source of your amusement, Jim."

"And it does _irony_ too!"

Jim's fingers gently brushed my arm, and he smiled and let it go. He did not add anything more after that, yet he kept looking at me. Almost as though he was expecting something, head tilted in a contemplative expression.

"What is it, Jim?"

"You said I can hug you."

"If that is your desire." I nodded, feeling the anticipation awaken in me once more. Interesting.

"Oh, it's my desire all right."

"It is?"

"Hell yeah."

But his tone did not sound tired or sad or desperate or in need of comfort. At all. I felt a frisson of irritation because, once more, I did not understand him. The time lapse between the fateful event and our conversation should have enabled Jim to deal with his emotions, and therefore not need physical reassurance anymore. So my previous assumptions must now be rethought, as this new variable did not fit with the equation.

Why had he said yes _now_? And in that tone, that did not suggest sadness or weakness, quite the contrary…?

"Then you may… proceed."

With a whoop of joy Jim threw himself across the short distance between us and happily wrapped his arms around me. I had expected more caution, or perhaps hesitation.

Apparently, so had he.

"Okay, was that too fast?" He whispered laughingly against my ear. For a fraction of an instant (0.0129 seconds, in fact) his tongue flicked against my ear, leaving a minuscule drop of moisture against my sensitive skin.

"Spock?"

Perhaps he had felt the way my body stiffened immediately to his unexpected contact. I purposefully attempted to relax my posture, and unclench my fists, to lift my hands and rest them upon his sides, careful not to press too hard, instead trying to metaphorically mold my skin against his fragile bones.

"I…"

I could not remember his question. I was perfectly aware of every hard angle and wide plane of his body fitting with mine, and the way his fingers dug into my sides in a soft, light touch, yet I was unable to call to mind a simple question asked not an entire second ago. What was this? This… _feeling_…?

And then I remembered. "I already gave you permission."

"Still, do you think next time I should maybe warn you before I jump you? _O__n_ you? Before I jump _on_ you?"

"That will not be necessary."

"Oh. Okay, then."

Jim pulled his torso back slightly so his arms were still around me but his face was level with mine. And merely 3.458 centimetres apart. "Spock… this isn't weird for you or anything, is it?" he asked very, very quietly.

I had never seen his eyes this close before. My voice was lower than usual too, as if I had forgotten that Jim's hearing was not Vulcan. "If by 'weird' you mean strange, unusual or odd, I will admit it is certainly… new."

He was looking into my eyes with the same saturated intensity that he had used 2.98 hours ago when I had explained to him my idea for how Mr Scott could preserve our engines and keep the shields up to counter the enemy attack, therefore saving all our lives.

The only difference being his lips were parted, this time.

Then…

"Great!" He suddenly shouted, and, his palms flat against my chest, pushed himself free of the embrace. "Awesome! I'm gonna _go_ now!"

"Why are you shouting?"

"Am I?!" His face was flushed red and quickly pressed the button to the turbolift with unnecessary force.

"Yes, you are."

"Well, sorry." He refused to meet my gaze. "I'm going down to Engineering and help out Scotty. You have the conn, okay?"

"Affirmative."

The doors opened and he went inside. "I'm glad we cleared the air, Spock. I mean, about the…us, and I'm glad that you, I mean, that we can…" He sighed, and the action caused him to look down, therefore he didn't see that the doors had automatically begun to close. "That we can-"

I stepped forward but the turbolift had shut before he could complete his sentence, and I heard it speed away 0.37 seconds later.

My forehead rested against the cool surface, and I breathed in the sharp smell of polish, metal and smoke. Despite Jim's assurances and my own words, I knew the matter was not settled yet.

For some reason all I could think was that this was a beginning.

* * *

**My love for your comments knows no bounds :D I swear it boldly goes WHERE NO MAN-**

What? No, I don't care that it's an overused cliche. This is _my_ terrible joke, dammit!

**WHERE NO MAN HAS REVIEWED BEFORE!!!**

**:D**

**Also, many people have been asking when Spock will hug Jim. To that all I can say is: BMWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *Evil!cackle of Evil***

**But it will happen.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Every Hug

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**

**The ****Seventh Time

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**

After our conversation regarding the matter of emotional displays came a time of relative peace and diplomacy, during which we were not assigned any particularly traumatising missions. Jim conducted business efficiently as usual, and sometimes seemed about to ask me something but never actually did. I completed my duties as science officer and had the chance to spend more time in research and laboratory tasks.

Due to these circumstances, therefore, the discussion of our agreement was never warranted, and so we did not even need to think of it. Or use it.

But what I did… was something else.

It was after some time that I was forced to confront my own actions during this period, once I realised what I had been inadvertently doing. Because to my own disgust these actions had not been happening under my strict control, a mistake so dishonourable that I had not even spared a moment to contemplate it's possibility.

Because it _was _dishonourable. And deplorable, and shameful, and my discovery of it's existence shocked me so deeply that I requested an entire evening to devote entirely to meditation.

For, you see… I had been stealing covert glances into Jim's mind.

Working with many tactile beings a touch telepath such as myself naturally developed the necessary mental shields, and strengthened and honed them in order to ensure I could maintain productivity and focus. This was entirely logical, even without taking into consideration the terrible violation it was to look onto other's thoughts without their express permission. Especially Humans, as they do not possess significant telepathic abilities.

With the exception of Jim, I avoided physical contact with the rest of the crew entirely, yet if it became necessary I could be confident that I would not perceive their innermost thoughts.

I should have remembered that Jim always said rules were made to be appropriately bent up to the point where they almost broke but not quite in case someone was paying attention, unless of course the rules were just plain wrong and then they could go 'fuck themselves'.

And in this instance, that was exactly what they did.

Well, not literally of course. Rules are not sentient beings, and have no sense of… in any case, the colourful turn of phrase is not relevant at this time.

Much to my own disappointment, I cannot say with accuracy _when_ my little obsession began. But once I realised what had been happening, it was all too clear that I must stop.

The Captain and I passed each other on the hallway outside our respective quarters, and the back of my hand would brush his bare arm. The Captain requested my presence on the bridge and my fingers would accidentally graze his shoulder when resting against the back of his chair. The Captain would stumble and I would catch him, not by simply putting out a steadying arm, but instead holding him carefully with both hands.

And every time out skins touched, my guard slipped and my defences lifted and I tasted his mind.

When I had realised what I was doing, my first thought went to putting an end to it. Jim had felt nothing when it had happened therefore I did not need to tell him, and although I knew the reason behind my terrible examinations was purely that of scientific study, to a Human it might easily sound… not so pure. Especially if a certain Human who also happened to claim to exercise the medical profession ever came to learn of what I had done.

So I stopped stealing glances into his consciousness. I did not stop touching him, as I was perfectly capable of self-control, and if I did strengthen my mental shields it was not because I might be tempted to lower them around my Captain if they were weaker.

I did not forget, of course. Forgetting is an entirely Human concept which continues to elude me.

Jim's mind was… bright.

Feeling it left me… empty.

That is the only word that comes close to describing what happened to me after the shortest, the briefest of touches and reaching into a place that was so vast and scintillating and _intense_ and complex and incandescent and auroral why could I only think of adjectives once associates with light and radiance? I only got the smallest image before I was not touching him anymore, so I was left with echoes of shining threads of ideas and alone, all alone.

In my thirst for the knowledge of all things that I did not know, I hungered for more of Jim.

More of his glorious golden emotions and electrical vibrant sensations and the way his muscles moved when I once touched his neck and he tensed, startled at the contact, and his thoughts focused so precisely and singularly on the contact and he was so _alive_ under my fingers…

"Spock?"

I wanted to touch his face because that would make it easier, faster, better and I would not be limited to watching, and I could experience, I could feel, perhaps once I was inside I could _understand_…

"Spock! Are you feeling okay?"

I was sitting in my chair in my quarters and Jim had his arms on the armrests because my hands were folded over my lap, and they must stay there.

"Forgive me, Captain. I am in need of rest."

This was not a lie.

"Yeah, 'cause I've been staring at you for the past _ages_ and you seemed totally lost in your own thoughts. Like I wasn't even there." Jim's smile gleamed like a fresh coat of paint.

"Jim… I have not yet recovered from the sensations I experienced yesterday at Welden B. I do apologise if I am… somewhat less capable today."

This was also not a lie, and in all likelihood it was the only reason why Jim had come into my quarters without asking for admittance first.

"That sucks. I'm really sorry about that, Spock. I had no idea they would be so… tactile. That's actually why I came over, I mean I know you weren't expecting me or anything, but I was thinking…"

I waited for him to find the words. He straightened his stance, effectively leaning away from me.

"… I was thinking about, you know how about the last time we said… I mean, it doesn't make any sense because that last thing you want right now is probably to touch someone, I know, but I… no, I don't know, and that's what I'm asking… I think… is what I'm doing."

"You are offering… physical comfort?"

His face flushed, and he grinned ruefully. "Don't get too excited, Spock, all I'm offering is a hug."

"Yes, that is what I was referring to."

But I would decline his offer. It was generous but Jim did not know that he must be guarded from my illogical desires.

"So… uh, do you want one?"

Under Jim's skin there was a world, a hidden, forbidden world that I wished to experience. But must keep myself from.

"Spock?"

I had to shield him from my curiosity.

"Spock, you're doing that thing again."

"My apologies once more, I was ruminating."

"Oh." He looked saddened by my confession, and turned to leave. How… illogical. "Right, I'll leave you to it then."

"No!" I stood quickly, so quickly the chair I had been sitting on crashed to the floor and fractured, because of the excessive force of it's impact. Jim was obviously startled, as I tended toward not displaying the full extent of my physical strength among the crew.

"Okay, okay, I'm here." He said, voice soothing and kind. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to or… oh, I don't know, Spock, I can't keep _guessing_ all the time. Will you please just tell me what you want? Please? Just tell me."

His eyes were enormous.

"Jim…"

But I did not know what I wanted. Because I wanted to dive into his mind and become so absorbed in it's fascinations that I would not remember what yesterday had felt like, to be so assaulted by the barrage of sensations I did not wish to know, and I wanted to immerse myself in the fluid, bold way Jim thought which was entirely different from my own and yet… and yet…

"Jim, I…"

Something was happening to me.

Something was wrong with me. Something to do with Jim, something that I did not understand. Yet.

"I do not know." I said quietly. "I do not know what I want."

Because I also wanted to protect him from myself, to protect his frail, breakable bones from my inhumanly powerful hands that longed to touch, and explore, and _meld_…

Something was terribly wrong. I did not think like this, I was never like this, not about Jim or anyone, never.

"Okay. Okay, Spock. I'll tell you what. We'll do this slowly, and if you feel crowded, or overwhelmed, or… whatever, you just tell me and I'll back off immediately. Deal?"

"That would be acceptable. Thank you, Jim."

I spoke these words whilst thinking that this was not a 'good idea'. This was a very, very bad one, in fact. Jim was so delicate and I… I thought he would find it humorous to hear me thinking of him in that way. '_Yes that's me, Jim Kirk, the delicate flower, Spock_' he would say, and his face would break into a wonderful, beautiful smile and I would attempt to stop my lips from curving in response.

"Just say when."

He slowly extended his arms and stepped toward me, his face so very close, the elegant, strong line from his temple down his cheek and jaw more tempting than I could have ever imagined.

"Okay so far?"

"You have not made contact yet."

At that he nodded his head down and gave a small chuckle. "Right. Let's see how this is for contact, then." And he slid his arms under mine in a slow caress and tightened their hold progressively. His head leaned against my cheek.

I closed my eyes.

"Is this okay, Spock? Is this better?"

It was. But I knew how it could be, how perfect it could be if I let myself probe, just a little bit, deeper, beyond the barrier that was his skin and mine and every inch of contact between the two.

I reminded myself to be careful with his fragile Human body when I bent my face down so it rested in his shoulder, and tightened my own hold around him, because my hands had instinctively come to press flat against his back.

I resisted my own impulses with every barrier of control I had. It took a very long, very gruelling time of intense battle with my own strength of will not to give in. I knew it was my Human side that wanted to soak in Jim's mind again so irrationally, without caring about the consequences the action would bring.

"Spock?"

It occurred to me then that a hug was not, in fact, a comforting gesture at all.

It was completely selfish.

"Thank you, Jim."

He fisted his fingers around the fabric of my shirt and made an incredibly low, weak sound at the back of his throat which he was probably unaware of. It sounded sad and painful, but his voice was normal when he sighed and answered:

"Anytime, Spock."

* * *

**First off, thank the awesome FallChild92 for being, well, awesome, and my new beta!!! :D *claps***

**And this is my new favourite hug. Yay! Besides the next one, which I have already begun writing and is totally my favourite. Also, I am totally not teasing you at all!**

**Remember what I said about reviews being Sporks? Yeah, still totally true ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Every Hug

* * *

**

**The Eighth Time**

**

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**

That same night I devoted all of my time to meditation in an attempt to classify and comprehend the excessively powerful emotional reactions which had so assaulted me during the contact Jim and I had shared.

Despite the long hours of calm and focus, I did not come to any conclusive results. The potentially harmful desire to read Jim's mind could be stopped, as I had done, but not explained away by mere scientific curiosity.

Standing outside the door to his quarters, I waited to test a theory that had formed, some time amidst the contemplative silence and calming scents of candles.

The door opened and there he was, still clad in golden uniform.

"Spock!" His eyes shone in the corridor's bright lights, a clear sky-blue.

"May I test a hypothesis on you, Jim?"

He did not respond for a few moments, then gave a lopsided smile. "Sure. What's going on?"

"For the purpose of my experiment, we should probably enter your quarters."

After a second's hesitation (1.308, in fact) he silently motioned for me to come inside. The door hissed shut behind us and I walked to the middle of the room and turned to face him.

"I would like you to ask me to do something."

"…What?"

"Ask me to do anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I will specify. Ask me to do something illogical, something I would not ordinarily do unless you, expressly, wanted me to do it."

Jim rubbed his temples and sighed tiredly. "Spock, what is this about?"

"It is about a hypothesis I wish--"

"No, I mean what's it about _really_?"

I did not understand his question. "It is about a hypothesis I wish to test."

"What hypothesis?"

"I will not tell you while it remains unproven."

Jim seemed taken aback at this and his eyes clouded. I felt a tug of despair at the sight.

"And you're sure you need _me_ specifically for this?" he grumbled. "I have to be on the bridge in ten minutes."

"It should not take long, Captain."

Jim sighed once more. His expression was pained and when he spoke his voice was flat, devoid of its usual brightness.

"Fine. Okay, fine."

Why was he sad? The urge to touch him and lick his mind to savour the cause was almost overpowering. It gave me one more reason to conduct my research immediately.

"Uh… why don't you solve this equation for me?"

Jim walked over to his computer, where he seemed to have been working before I interrupted him, and pointed at a diagram most Humans would find incredibly complex, where all but one of the equations had already been solved, brilliantly. I was momentarily distracted by the fact that, once more, Jim's intelligence proved to be very… stimulating. He had obviously been about to finish the remaining formula as well, and with fascinating ease.

If I could just taste his thoughts once more I might observe his patterns, so intricate, so hypnotising, labyrinthine and somehow… but _no_. That could not happen. I had never let myself fantasise about things of such a nature. Now was not the time to begin, and they must be _stopped_.

"The equation is not adequate to my request. Ask me something else."

This moment of wavering doubt had made my voice truly blank, that Jim would not guess what I was imagining.

"Wha--? Oh, I don't know, Spock. What do you..?" And then the gleam in his eye became sharp, and he looked down at the floor with a bitter, self-deprecating smile, and back up at me.

"Okay. You want something you'd never do?"

"Affirmative."

"Something totally crazy?"

"Yes."

"Kiss me."

I could not have heard him correctly.

"…Excuse me?"

"Kiss me. It's stupid, illogical, irrational, ridiculous and absurd. So do it."

He… what?

Did he honestly desire a kiss? No, of course not, he had said that because I had previously asked him for an absurd request. So Jim thought the possibility of us kissing absurd. Well, naturally, as did I. Did I?

Could I not?

Surprise, panic, fear, and… I fought them with everything I had, to empty myself of them, to ignore them, I was confused and reeling, I was in control, I was not, I--

I was so entirely absorbed by my own thoughts at first I did not even notice my body move forward in a clear intent to obey Jim's words. I stopped, arms clenched by my sides in an attempt to help myself, and Jim looked up at me with mocking cruelty in his eyes, and a sort of wretched defiance I did not understand.

Suddenly I snatched back my hand which had been reaching for his face without my thinking of it. Was I going mad? Perhaps my Time was upon me… Pon Farr would certainly account for the extreme emotions coursing through my arteries, seemingly unchecked. However, my age and intermixed physiology would not account for the Pon Farr.

Jim tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.

"Can't do it, can you?"

I could not answer him, either.

"So is that it, then? Are you done? Draw any solid conclusions?"

"That was not the purpose of the experiment," I replied carefully. However, it had offered even more proof… because I had been about to do it. I had been… I still did, part of me still wanted it, which could only be explained by--

"Then what was the purpose of coming into my quarters like this, Sp--?"

"Ask me again."

Jim blinked twice before answering. His lashes were a light dusted bronze colour.

"Okay, today is seriously turning out to be one of your less than logical days."

"Ask me again," I said more forcefully, hoping to dispel further objections.

"Ask you to kiss me?"

"Yes."

I stepped closer to him, but he backed away, so I kept advancing until the back of his legs hit the edge of the table, and he could not escape.

"What are you doing, Spock?"

Jim did not sound afraid. Perhaps he should be. I did not know yet.

"Spock, what's _wrong_?"

It was happening again. That which had happened yesterday, the feelings… I wanted to inhale him, even without touching I could practically smell the sharp intelligence, the scent of his golden thoughts, and I needed--

"Ask me again, Jim."

"No."

He looked concerned, and some other emotion I could not name.

"Please. You _must_ ask me to kiss you."

To my own surprise, I had lost control over my voice, because it was pained and lower than usual.

But then Jim blurted, "Yes, do it."

I waited to check my body's response to his words. It was undeniable. The urge was back; to do as Jim asked, as I always did, because he was the one who asked for it, and he was my friend yet--

I leaned in, assuming he had meant a Human kiss, and put a steadying hand on the side of his face, a careful, tentative touch which nevertheless served to remind me of psi-points and the heady rush of consciousness that would flood my own--

But I would never invade his privacy like that. It was terrible and wrong.

Then I delicately touched my lips to his forehead, in a gesture I had learnt from my mother. It was feather-light and quick, to avoid the temptation of absorbing any of Jim's own emotions.

As I pulled away his hands came up to my shoulders and applied pressure to stop me from leaving for a few moments. I could have freed myself anyway, his strength was no more than a caress compared to my own, but instead I held my breath and my thoughts as our faces almost touched.

His hands slid around my back and I allowed that, too, and we were both hesitant and slow and unsure, somehow even more so than any other time this had happened, although I did not know why. I was careful only to put my hands on the back of his uniform where no skin could tempt me.

"You're driving me insane, you know that, right?" he groaned finally, sinking his fingers into my hair. I wondered whether this was customary between friends during a hug, too. Perhaps I was now expected to do the same. I certainly wanted to, despite what it would imply were Jim a Vulcan and not a Human. But he was Human, and he did not need to know the level of intimacy we were both indulging by my people's standards.

"Spock…" he breathed. I slowly let my hand trail up from his back to his neck and finally, blissfully, slide into the smooth locks, feeling a sharp spike of pleasure at the contact.

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

Jim's hair smelled like the sun. Sharp and blinding and golden and beautiful. It's texture against my skin was incredibly sensitive and thrilling, every soft strand wrapping around my fingers… in fact, in was rather… uncomfortably good. Too good. Much too good.

Finally I had to push myself away, breathing with difficulty, to find Jim looking at me as though lost.

"_Captain_."

He quickly rearranged his features, however, and scowled.

"All right, _now_ do you wanna explain what just happened here?" His tone was stern, like the one he used on the bridge.

"Forgive me, Captain," I panted, craving the solitude of my own quarters and relaxing scents of meditation candles.

"We'll see about forgiving once you tell me what the hell is going on with you lately."

"Lately? You imply I have exhibited this behaviour before."

"Well, since yesterday at Welden B you've been distant and… untouchable."

I felt surprise. "Untouchable."

"Metaphorically." Jim rolled his eyes. "I don't know what it is… but… I think it's actually been around since you started… I mean, I started… with the whole… hugging thing."

"You believe I have been acting differently since I permitted your embrace?"

"Wow, _permitted_, you're too kind." But his smile was a little more genuine, and his eyes glowed slightly with amusement. "I just mean that since we've been doing… whatever the hell it is that we're doing now in which you let me do all this stuff I probably really _shouldn't_ do but apparently I'll always be a stupid masochist so why change now--?"

"Jim."

"Right, it's just that sometimes I wish I was a healthier, more normal person, you know? Because I am _messed up in the head_ for thinking this is a good idea, or at least knowing it's a bad idea but doing it anyway--"

"_Jim_."

"Sorry. What was the question?" I opened my mouth to answer but he was faster. "Kidding. The answer is yes. Since this thing began you've been… I don't know. It's something about your eyes. If you ever changed your mind and wanted me to stop you'd tell me, right?"

"Of course. What is wrong with my eyes?"

"Nothing. Forget I said that, that was stupid."

"Explain." I pressed, chancing another step toward him. Jim grinned.

"Well, since you ask so nicely." His smile faded but the warmth in his eyes remained. "It's… it's like you're trying to figure me out at the same time as you're thinking about something so far away you're not a hundred percent there. Like you're torn between being here and being in this other place, somewhere strange and remote that I can't…" He trailed off, looking into my eyes searchingly. Then he put his hands at either side of my face and _it was going to happen my heartbeat was so frantic Jim would hear it and I could not breathe and I could not move--_

He kissed my forehead, having to stand on tiptoe to do so, as I was slightly taller than him.

"If you need to talk or something, you can tell me. You know that, right? I'm your friend, Spock. That's what friends are for."

"Thank you, Captain."

And that was when, finally, I realised I was attracted to my friend, and it was much, much too late to try and stop it.

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**So.**

**Zeh stuff is a'happenin'. Waddya thinks?**

**Okay I'll stop writing like that now ;) But seriously guys... thoughts? As their feelings change the hugs themselves will change too *pointed nod with just a hint of evilness (because I can never leave Zeh Evil behind)* That's actually quite fun to write, I hope it's as fun to read! :D Also, Jim is adorable, no? Just... in general. Saw ST2009 today (AGAIN) and those eyes... PHEW! *fans self* I mean... yeah. Okay. Not bad. N' stuff.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Every Hug**

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**The Ninth Time**

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"_No! I want Spock_!"

The Captain's faint voice coming from the communicator in my hand had somehow quieted the entire bridge crew.

"_Listen, we need you down here_." This was Dr McCoy's frantic whisper. "_Jim won't let anyone near him who isn't--"_

"_SPOOOOOOCK_!"

"What is the Captain's status?" I asked curtly.

"_I won't really know until I've examined him. And I can't do that until I get a little closer_."

"Then tell me your best estimate, doctor."

Impatience was usually an emotion I could easily calm, however, Dr McCoy's complete lack of competence in the face of this terrible crisis was enough to make the task difficult.

"_Hey, we're all equally worried, okay? But he was the only one stupid enough to offer to try the local food in case it wasn't edible, so I can't know anything until someone gets him to calm down. And he keeps asking-_-"

"_Where is Spock? I want him! So much_!"

I stood from the Captain's chair and informed Mr Sulu that he had the conn. Jim was clearly not in his right mind, and in possible danger, I knew I must go to him immediately.

"Lieutenant Uhura, please alert Engineering and have them ready the transporter to beam me down to the planet's surface."

"Yes, sir."

Her soft voice carried until I entered the turbolift, communicator in hand.

"_Spock, are you still there_?"

"Of course."

"_Please hurry. He's pointing his phaser at the security guards_."

"Instruct him to cease his actions."

There was a rather long, disbelieving pause, and then, in a deeply sarcastic voice, Dr McCoy answered. "_Yeah, I wonder why I didn't think to do that before_?"

The doors opened and I quickened my pace.

"_I. Want. Spock! He'll make the pain go away_!"

"Dr McCoy, update the Captain's status. He claims to be in pain?"

"_Yeah, and he's still acting crazy. I don't know what to do. Just get down here as soon as you can_."

"I shall endeavour to do so."

Finally I reached the transporter room and nodded to Mr Scott, who was already at the controls and seemingly waiting for my orders. Without stopping for idle talk I walked over to the pad and positioned myself accordingly.

"Energise," I instructed, attempting to conceal the urgency in my tone.

Moments later I materialised onto the surface, and did a three-hundred and sixty degree turn to locate the landing party. This Class M planet was 89.7 percent flatland, with bluish grass formations, a clear green sky and humanoid intelligent life-forms living in small groups among the plains.

I was currently ankle-deep in one of those plains, as were the members of the landing party waiting to beam back onto the ship, standing not twenty feet from me. They seemed to be forming a half-circle around the Captain, who was brandishing a phaser, eyes panicked.

"Jim."

I ran over to them, and was greeted by McCoy's thanks.

"Took you long enough, damn pointy-eared--!"

"Spock!"

Jim's voice quickened my heart-rate. He seemed stunned to be looking at me.

"Spock… you _did_ come!" His tone was disbelieving.

I approached him slowly, hand outstretched, because he was still pointing his phaser at the red-clad security man to my right.

"Of course. You called for me."

His face broke into a wide, almost childish smile, and he dropped the phaser.

"You're the _best_."

I took another step toward him.

"And now that you're here…" Jim swayed where he stood, eyes unfocused. "You'll take the pain away…?"

Suddenly he collapsed to the floor.

"Jim!"

Both the doctor and myself sprinted to his side, but I was the one to reach him first and catch his head before it struck the ground. Jim's breaths were shallow and he felt fevered when I brushed his forehead.

"Spock, my head hurts like… a lot." He moaned. "Make it go away?"

"Yes, at once," I promised without even thinking. I lifted him up into a sitting position, cradling his body against my chest for support. Dr McCoy looked at us with wide eyes, the hypospray limp in his hand.

"Doctor," I said pointedly.

"Right. Hold him still."

He injected Jim with a compound in the arm, and the Captain seemed to relax.

"S'much better. Thanks, Spock. You're soooo awesome," He crooned, closing his eyes and resting his face on my shoulder.

"Jim…" McCoy said softly, a slight smile in his eye. "Can you stand so we can beam out of here?"

"Sure," Jim answered, opening his eyes again and attempting to get up. I helped him up and he staggered for a few moments, blinking confusedly.

Then, without a warning, he fell again.

I caught him around the waist, and he laughed delightedly.

"I wish you'd catch me every time I fall…" he giggled. "Hey, that was very cheesy… cheese… I'm _hungry._"

"You can eat on the ship, Captain," I informed him.

"Sorry I keep falling." He said sheepishly. "The ground keeps slipping… it's difficult to catch it with my feet."

"Indeed."

A soft, warm feeling was spreading from my side to my chest and stomach. I had to clench my jaw to prevent myself from smiling.

"Spock…" His fingers latched onto my ear, and his tone was wondrous. "Your ears are all _pointy_ and shit!"

"I know, Captain." I nodded at Dr McCoy and he motioned to the remaining officers for them to stand in the appropriate places for beam up (instead of gaping at the Captain and myself).

"I think they're sexy," Jim said then, grinning hugely. I snapped around to face him.

"Excuse me?"

"I think you're really--"

"Okay Jim, that's enough talk now!" The doctor said loudly. I had to immediately suppress a flare of anger, because I wanted to hear what the Captain had been about to say.

"But Bones, Spock is so--"

"Mr Scott, stand by to beam up party of six!" The doctor shouted into his communicator.

"_Aye aye! Give me a minute to factor in Mr Spock's variables, I don't like how this planet's radiation interferes with me equipment."_

As we waited Jim's legs abruptly buckled again, and I decided to simply lift him clear in my arms. He squinted up at me suspiciously, then seemed to take in how I held him; with one arm under his knees and one around his back.

"I am _not_ a princess," He declared firmly.

"Given my Vulcan physiology, the weight differential between you and a nobly-born young Human woman is negligible," I murmured, once more having to fight a smile that was sure to be obvious if anyone caught it.

"Are you saying that, to you, I might as well be a princess?" Jim seemed indignant. It was amusing to watch.

"Yes, Captain."

It was quite true, of course; to my Vulcan strength his body was incredibly light. As I thought this I mused on how his skin felt unnaturally soft where it brushed mine, and his confused, muddled thoughts called out to me, so easy to catch…

"Spock. What are you doing?" McCoy was looking at us with raised eyebrows.

I snapped out of my dangerous state, and quickly rebuilt the telepathic walls between the Captain and myself. "I… I merely surmised the Captain could not stand by himself."

"Well, Mr Scott's waiting for the order."

I momentarily shifted Jim's weight to one arm and opened my communicator.

"This is Spock. Energise."

The planet's oddly coloured background disappeared before my eyes and the familiar image of our transporter room came back. I stepped forward, intending to leave the pad, but when I moved Jim's arms came up around my neck, hugging me close, and he nuzzled his face in my shoulder, sighing contentedly. The gesture was probably meant to be a friendly embrace, amicable and innocent.

The shock of arousal it brought nearly caused me to trip on the steps and fall.

Vulcans can, of course, control their sexual urges. Had I truly wanted to, I simply would not have responded to Jim's contact the way I did. However, the fact that it was unexpected and not… unwelcome made me powerless to prevent a reaction; my mental shields slipped, and I felt Jim stiffen in my arms.

"What…" He croaked, his voice breathless. "Spock, what was that?" He must have felt my own potent emotions, spilled onto his mind by my careless loss of control.

"Nothing." I said curtly, and attempted to regain that control.

"But…" Jim's fingers wrapped around the fabric of my uniform shirt and clung tight. "But I feel…"

"Mr Scott," I interrupted him, loudly. "Alert the bridge that landing party has arrived."

"Yes, Mr Spock. Will Captain Kirk be all right?"

The Chief Engineer was clearly not the only one with this concern, several technicians were also looking worriedly at the Captain in my arms.

"Dammit, I'll know more once I've had the chance to examine him! Will you people let me do my job?"

Dr McCoy's emotional outbursts no longer surprised me by this point, I had become quite accustomed to them.

"Alert the Medical Bay as well, Mr Scott." I indicated, and turned to leave.

Jim's hands crawled slowly up my neck, to my ears, but this time with deliberate intent.

I stumbled; a most illogical action as the floor was flat and devoid of obstacles.

"Spock, what's wrong?" The doctor asked immediately.

I righted myself with difficulty as the doctor followed me out of the room.

"Merely my own clumsiness, doctor, which prevented me from walking steadily. What did the Captain ingest?" I said, needing to force my voice to sound steady.

"It was some weird fruit the village elder wanted him to eat. From now on I'm making it a rule not to trust food that _glows_. I have no idea what it was. Here, wait, let me scan him properly."

As I walked, the doctor passed the tricorder all over Jim's body, muttering distractedly.

"What are your readings?" I inquired.

"Uh… a stimulant, clearly. But not… wait, this is confusing…"

"What is confusing you, doctor?"

"He's in a lot of pain. Hell of a lot. Less inhibited too, which means he should be screaming in agony about now. But…"

I gazed at the Captain in my arms. He was looking at me intently, and ignoring Dr McCoy's presence, however his eyes were strained and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

"He appears to be controlling the pain," I muttered.

"Yes, and that's what I don't get. He's also got an abnormally elevated heart-rate, pupil dilation, shortness of breath… Jim's always been a tough one, but this is… a bit much, even for him…" Passing crewmen and crewwomen in the corridors were giving our little party obvious curious glances.

McCoy huffed with annoyance. "Just hurry up and let's get him to my Sickbay, all right? I'll run ahead and meet you there."

"Affirmative."

The doctor broke into a sprint. I could not walk faster for fear of causing Jim discomfort.

"Spock…" Jim tugged my ear again, his emotions rolling off his skin in waves, between feverish pain and burning curiosity. "Do it again."

"Do what again, Captain?"

"That thing you did…" He tightened his hold around me until his face was next to mine, his lips close to my ear. "It was really hot."

I shivered as his cool breath tickled my neck, and couldn't help another tremor of desire from passing onto the Captain through our joined skins.

He moaned softly, inaudibly to Human ears, but loudly enough for mine.

I stopped walking, and closed my eyes. I could feel the hunger awakening, profound and vast and unstoppable once it was aroused, and I knew must quench it before it got too far. This was not Jim's fault. He was drugged, and not in his own mind. I must cure him. I must not, under any circumstances whatsoever, slam him against the first convenient wall and have my way--

"More." Jim whispered, and bit my earlobe.

I nearly dropped him.

"Mr Spock! Do you need help with the Captain, sir?"

Nurse Chapel, probably sent forward by Dr McCoy, was at the other end of the corridor, quickly walking toward us.

I disentangled myself from Jim's embrace and handed him to the nurse. She put a steadying arm around his broad shoulders and managed to take some of his weight to help him walk, despite the fact that Jim was tall and quite heavily muscled for a Human, and she was slim and much shorter.

"I am needed at the bridge." I said with difficulty. "Surely you can manage the Captain?"

"Of course, Mr Spock."

"No, don't go, Spock…" Jim began, his voice raw and pleading. "Please? Please stay with me?"

"I must go." I said firmly. "I want hourly updates on the Captain's status, Miss Chapel."

"Yes, Mr Spock."

"No, Spock! Stay!" Jim's eyes filled with tears, and I felt ice settle around my heart. Never had such a sight struck me physically before. It did now. "Please, I'm sorry, please stay!"

"Mr Spock. Please consider coming with us." The nurse was looking at me angrily, blaming me, of course, because it was my fault, I was doing this to Jim, all my fault, for being who I was and unable to repress these wretched urges.

"Don't leave me," Jim croaked. "My head hurts _so much_… it's only better if you're there and if you're not there _everything_ is _worse_…"

I slowly walked back to him and nodded, careful to keep my face completely devoid of emotion. "Of course I shall accompany you to Sickbay, Captain. If that is your wish."

If I let a hint of emotion through, even a little, the contained destruction ravaging my insides was going to explode.

"My wish…" Jim blinked, and with what seemed like tremendous effort stood up straight and pushed Miss Chapel away. "…Yes, my wish… you'll stay?"

"I will stay."

He smiled, eyes glistening with the tears and the lights of the corridor, his cheeks wet, lips pale and sickly. He was so beautiful that I felt, for the first time in my life, I might just understand that strange Human word: heartbreaking. Because Jim's was a painful beauty, aching beauty, and it _hurt_ me.

"You'll never leave me?" He breathed, gaze still shining with happiness, fingers reaching out toward my face in a seemingly involuntarily gesture. I gently avoided touching his hand in an inappropriate way, and slid his arm over my shoulders to help him walk.

"Never."

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**Whoever gets the TOS reference wins a cookie! I'd send ****you the real thing (I make killer chocolate-chip) but shipping rates being what they are, you get a cyber Spock-flavoured one? :D**

**Also, just a quick update on my other stories: I'm very sorry about the delays. RL has been a bit of a bitch lately, but hopefully she'll behave herself and let me write soon.**

**A great big sexy hug to you all!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Before we begin I thought I might as well clear this up :D **

**The TOS reference in the last chapter was Spock's comment (LIE! IT WAS A TOTALLY BLATANT LIE!! ALL LIES TO COVER UP HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR HIS CAPTAIN!!!) on his (ALLEGED!!!) "clumsiness", which happens in Season 2 Episode The Apple ;) **

**You buys are so BAMF it's ridiculous.**

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**The Tenth Time**

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"_There_ you are! Finally."

I had heard the Captain's running footsteps outside the corridor, but considered the possibility of his moving past the observation deck a preferable one.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Spock," he panted.

Jim's health seemed to have improved considerably. Dr McCoy must have somehow cured his allergic reaction to the glowing aliment, if he was now coherent and able to walk unsupported once more. However, he was not wearing his golden Captain's shirt yet; he was dressed in all-black.

"For what purpose did you want me?"

"Just… just checking up. You know, to say hey."

He tried to lean nonchalantly against the door-frame, but was unable to do so because the automatic alarm sounded the moment his arm touched the pressure-sensitive surface, and made the Captain jump in fright.

"The doors operate on an air-compression hydraulic system…"

"Yeah, I know, Spock." Jim walked inside with a sly grin, unabashed.

"Is that the only reason you wanted me?"

"Huh?"

"You merely wished to find me in order to greet me?"

"Oh. No, no, I also wanted to talk to you."

I sat on the bench with my back to the Captain and waited for him to speak. I heard his breathing, still uneven, grow in volume as he approached me cautiously, already alert to the fact that something was not quite right.

The air flowing in and out of his mouth passed his parted lips and created a sound that thundered in my ears.

_The square root of Pi is one point seven seven two four five three eight five…_

"It's about yesterday."

With these words the chance that the Captain's request was related solely to my scientific knowledge no longer existed.

"My memories are pretty messed up… and I don't really…" He paused, and took another deep breath, air filling his lungs in a deafening rush.

_To transport an object instantaneously its molecules are disassembled and reassembled within a short frame of time, as the matter-stream travels via sub-space…_

"But I do have a couple of flashes… impressions, maybe. Of some… stuff that I may have… said. Or done."

"What 'stuff'?"

I knew he smiled for a moment, even though I could not see his face.

"Well, that's what I wanted to ask _you_. Because I know I dreamt half of it up, and it may not have happened at all, but some of it maybe… and I'm afraid I may have…"

"Please formulate your question concisely, Captain."

My ears felt abnormally hot. Perhaps I was ill, after all. Perhaps a cool, soothing touch was what I needed. Perhaps a wet mouth closing over—

_In the Human measuring system the speed of light is approximately two-hundred and ninety-nine million seven-hundred and ninety-two thousand four-hundred and fifty-eight…_

"The thing is, I remember feeling… I remember, I think I remember doing…"

I waited, fighting the instinct with as many equations and calculations as I could compute at the same time, because I knew I must not allow even a second of consideration. Not even a fleeting thought, as the volatile, weak grasp of calm Jim permanently threatened now wavered before my very eyes.

"Did… did I do anything inappropriate?"

"Specify."

_Despite Ensign Chekov's protestations complex numbers were first defined on Earth by the Italian mathematician Gerolamo Cardano…_

It was new for me, to experience such astounding difficulty in performing a task as simple as restraining my emotions in front of my Captain.

"Did I… try to kiss you?"

I turned around, unable to resist the temptation even though I knew _the matter-antimatter interaction that powers the reactors is regulated by the magnetic constrictors and needs dilithium crystals in order to-- _I should not have, and the mistake cost me what little discipline I had left.

For my patterns of thought suddenly, shockingly changed; went from being logical, and organised, and black-and-white, to a startling coloured whirl of sensations, and emotions, and I could appreciate Jim's muscled arms in the short-sleeved shirt and his eyes in the light, the lustrous glow of his hair and the way he was biting his lip.

And the sounds coming from his body were somehow louder; the brush of fabrics and the soft yet frantic beating of his heart, and I wanted to hear the melody his clothes would make pooling on the floor at our feet, and the thrum of his blood beneath my fingers…

"So _did I_?"

Jim was confused, and panicked, and obviously hoping that I would answer with a negative.

"No. You did not."

It was true. He had not tried to kiss me. He had bitten my ear, and I had spent the entire night feeling teeth sinking into my flesh and meditating in order to learn how to ignore the excruciating arousal heating my body so readily, so instantly and completely.

Jim sighed in relief. "Good. So we're cool? We're fine?"

"Yes."

I should have attempted to sound more composed, for Jim suspected not all was well.

"Are you okay, Spock? You look kind of… fevered."

I was a Starfleet First Officer who had let himself become sexually attracted to his Captain. I was Vulcan. I was not used to having my own physical responses taken from me like this, I had never felt so powerless, unable to decide when and if I wanted Jim to touch my hands… because it was _all the time_, like a _constant_, not a variable. And for it to be like this had never factored into my carefully formulated future plans, something so exquisite as to be overwhelming, and violent, and deadly.

And terrifying.

"Spock. What's wrong?"

He stepped closer, eyes full of concern, and gently put an arm on my shoulder to try and catch my eye.

Never had avoiding his gaze been so important. My control had been flayed raw, so I was now unpredictable, and potentially dangerous. I wished I could tell him. I wished I could say: 'You must not touch me, Captain, or I shall not be held responsible for my actions.'

"_Spock."_

"Nothing is wrong."

Everything was wrong.

"Don't _lie_ to me," Jim scoffed, and touched a finger to my chin, lifting it up so he could meet my eyes. In all likelihood his inhibitions were still lowered somewhat with after-effects from yesterday's ordeal, because it was not his habit to touch me in such a casual or intimate manner.

"It is nothing I wish to discuss with you," I answered sharply and quietly, letting some hostility into my tone in hopes of prompting Jim to let me go.

It seemed to work, as he blinked slowly, and lowered his hand.

As it descended the tips of his fingers ghosted down my neck, and then my chest, seemingly without meaning to.

"I'm worried about you, Spock," he said coolly. "I just want to help."

_Then leave! Leave me alone!_

The words were like a desperate cry in my head. I wanted to shout at the stubborn, strong-willed Human. This was not something that happened to me often, the desire to exclaim or use my voice to release emotion. Perhaps I really _was_ ill, or fevered.

But I could not say that to Jim. Just as I could not say: 'You are like a fever in my veins, you are making me lose my senses with your irresistible mind and your mesmerising beauty. Now _go,_ before I lose myself in you.'

"I know you want to help, Captain."

"Then will you _let_ me?"

I could not answer.

"Let me help, Spock."

And he moved forward, to put his arms around me, to comfort me.

And I did not stop him.

I should have. I should have caught his wrists in my hands and pushed him away, and said 'We must never touch again, Jim, not like this.' But I did not. I was paralysed, weak, unable to speak the words that would end this blissful sensation…

"Better?" Jim asked gently, his voice kind and soothing.

It was. It was so much better. But not for the reasons it should have been. Not because Jim was my friend and the relief sinking into my bones came from that comfort. It was better because… because…

"I do not know," I admitted softly, so quiet as to doubt whether Jim had heard my response at all.

We stood there for a very long time. Longer than we had ever done before. So long that I had the chance to regain a sort of peace that was pleasant and warm.

At last, I felt Jim carefully pull away. I had not dared to let my hands go anywhere near him, so they had stayed by my sides.

"Spock, I think that one day you'll admit this hugging thing isn't half bad." Jim grinned.

"That is unlikely."

I would never say it _out loud_, this I knew, I would never acknowledge that perhaps Jim was right and I was becoming addicted to his touch. Not to anyone, especially not to him.

His smile only widened at my words of denial, however, and he motioned for me to lean close to him, even though I would have heard him perfectly anyway.

"Unlikely, but not impossible," he whispered in my ear, low and provocative, or so it sounded to me with my electrified mind and tingling nerves.

And with that, he walked away triumphantly, leaving me to stand alone with what might have been the ghost of a smile on my features, had I known.

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**So… the angst-o'-meter got sliiiiightly carried away this time. My apologies, Spock is so conflicted and tormented and he wants to ravish Jim sooooo badly! *dramatic sigh* But don't worry, there's a couple of really fun ones coming up soon to make up for it, which I think you'll enjoy ;)**

**ILU guys!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Every Hug**

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**The Eleventh Time**

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The Enterprise was currently in orbit around the planet Bryn V of the Laurentian system, where a Humanoid culture had developed, blissfully ignorant to the existence of the Federation but all the while under its close scrutiny.

This was due to the Brynnen surprising rate of technological advancement, and our mission was simple; to make a favourable impression upon its inhabitants as representatives of Starfleet, for the planet had recently and successfully developed warp-technology.

First Contact had already been established, but we were to help smoothe the proceedings and then transport the leaders back to Earth for negotiations regarding entry into the Federation.

Jim had already become very adept at situations such as this one; perhaps it was his sharp yet subtle grace for diplomacy. Perhaps the natural charm or good-looks which seemed to transcend gender, race or species. He had already been propositioned by at least three women and one man (which I had intercepted), and the younger sister of the female leader had made a spectacle of herself by complimenting his physique in the middle of a meeting.

This displeased me greatly for obvious, logical reasons; if Jim were to tolerate her advances he would be jeopardising the success of the mission. I never planned to tell him, however; for he knew this well enough, and at any rate thinking about Jim's sexual prowess was not a desirable topic, because, in fact, it _was_...

In Bryn V it was customary for friends staying together to share a room.

Indeed, this tradition was not without precedent; Humans did it too, both to economise space and for companionship. Nevertheless, I found myself wishing ardently that the circumstances under which Jim had introduced me to the leader ("This is my good friend and first officer, Mr Spock. Say hi, Spock. _No! _Eh, sorry. He... he doesn't shake hands.") had been different. Perhaps if he had not said I was his friend I would not be faced with this undeniably unfavourable situation. Because Brynnen did not only share the room.

They shared a bed.

Ten officers had beamed down onto the planet, besides the Captain and myself, to facilitate communication and present the appropriate image of a united, organised, intelligent force. Naturally, Dr McCoy was excluded from this party.

Lieutenant Uhura and Mr Chekov, however, were not, and neither was Nurse Chapel, who had come in case of any medical emergencies but also, I suspected, to monitor the Captain and ensure he ate and, at some point between working and charming everyone around him, slept (which was rather unnecessary as I was perfectly able to perform that task).

The building where the Bryn people stayed temporarily (their equivalent to a hotel) translated, literally, into The Bed House, or The House of Beds, as a place for rest, and this was where our crew was invited to live for the next week. I postulated that being received in a warm and welcoming atmosphere, with curious but harmless inhabitants, had a positive, relaxing effect on the Humans, as opposed to some of our more dangerous escapades. Nyota smiled and confirmed this theory vehemently when I spoke of it to her.

Perhaps Starfleet had decided the Enterprise crew deserved a mission like this one. It was an illogical waste of resources, of course, yet commendable, despite the fact that a simple transport vessel could have accomplished the task.

Presently Jim and I were being shown the quarters where we would sleep by two Brynnen maids, one of whom kept blushing a bright purple when I asked her a question, which to me seemed strange, but greatly delighted the Captain.

We were expected to make ourselves comfortable and be back for a feast at the Prime House in an hour. The Prime House was the very new building where Bryn's world leaders had recently formed their first global political council.

But I was not thinking about global meetings when Jim and I were left alone inside a room with one bed.

"_So_."

I looked at the Captain and waited for him to organise his thoughts. It did not take long.

"I am very determined that this shouldn't be awkward," Jim stated firmly, planting his feet slightly apart and crossing his arms whilst looking intently at the offending piece of furniture. "So here's what we're gonna do tonight: you'll take the bed, I'll take the floor. I'm making this a direct order, end of discussion. There, done." He clapped his hands happily and turned to look at me.

The floor was a polished stone surface with no carpets, surely harmful and uncomfortable to a Human.

Poor Jim, he had sounded so _proud_ of his solution.

"May I inquire as to what you plan to do in the event of my disobedience?"

"Dis--" Jim began hoarsely, then cleared his throat (perhaps the air was dry). "Disobedience?"

"I plan on defying the order you have just given me because it has absolutely no semblance of logic, so I would know whether you intend to write a report, make an entry on you Captain's log, file a complaint..."

"You're _hilarious_, you are." Jim rolled his eyes and, to my surprise, threw himself exultantly on the bed. "I'm sure it would look great on my record: first officer Spock refused to sleep on the bed so I was forced to take disciplinary action..." He broke off with a bark of laughter and rolled over to face me, his eyes saying we were sharing a joke.

I wished I had not understood it.

"Come on, Spock."

"No."

"But... I _want_ to sleep on the floor?" That grin was still lighting up his face in an unexpectedly disconcerting way.

"Your personal preferences are not a factor in this case."

"_Please_ don't make this difficult." He groaned, fisting his knuckles around the neatly folded sheets and completely disarranging them in a loud rustle.

I then had a most illogical thought: that I _would_, in fact, wish to sleep on the bed. Simply because he had lain in it before.

"You are the one who is acting irrationally, Captain."

Jim sighed dramatically. "Look, I'm sure I can get the Prime Leader's sister to invite me to her chambers, so this discussion is probably pointless--"

"You shall do no such thing," I snapped immediately. Did Jim not see how harmful that would be? For the mission?

"Excuse me?" He had been in the middle of stretching luxuriantly, arching his back, all arrogance and ostentation and vanity, blatantly displaying his perfection. Now he stopped.

"You want me to clarify my statement, Captain?" I fought to prevent my anger from affecting the way I spoke those words, but was not entirely successful.

"Yeah, I do."

Jim sat up, eyebrows raised and mouth quirked in amusement. His light mood darkened mine immediately.

"This is a very important First Contact mission, Captain. While I am aware of the lack of opportunities lately to test that fabled promiscuity of yours, this does not excuse compromising our safety for the sake of a meaningless sexual encounter."

The grin faded, but that light in his eyes remained, and my anger was boiling, I wanted to keep him away from that obscene woman, I--

"Okay, um, Spock... I was _joking_."

Oh.

"... I see."

The anger did not completely recede, however it did, at least, prove easier to master once I knew Jim would not go anywhere near her.

"Did you honestly think I'd sleep with a member of the Prime Family?" he asked, sliding off the bed in a single smooth movement.

I coughed. The air _was_ dry.

"I do not make it a habit to question whether everything you say to me is a joke, Captain."

"Really? I could've sworn it was the other way around." He kept walking toward me, a calculating light in his eyes. I stepped back, feeling cornered, suddenly suffocated, trapped--

"So what do you want to do during the next forty-five minutes?" he asked curiously, eyes wide and angelic, a cheerful spring in his step as he kept advancing, and I had to clench my hands to prevent them from crushing his body beneath me and claiming him as mine.

"Can you think of any activities, Spock?"

He knew. He had to know what this was doing to me. I could feel the sound of my teeth grinding together reverberating in my skull, and Jim's breathing and my breathing and our low heartbeats, so erratic and completely different, yet somehow in tune...

Suddenly he sprang lightly, agile as a feline, and threw his arms around me, imprinting his lips against my shoulder in a way that might have been unintentional--

But it was too much. I could _not_ handle this. I had never been tested this far, been forced to maintain these levels of control.

It was too much.

I pushed him away roughly and with difficulty, not because of his strength but because of my weakness, and decided I did not like the way he was smiling. Jim was much too intelligent for his own good.

"Oops?"

"Why did you... what was the reason for this, Captain?" I managed.

"No reason," he replied innocently, turning to exit the room. Jim's back was aesthetically pleasing. The entirety of Jim was, in fact, very, very pleasing. Even the parts of Jim I had not seen yet were sure to be--

"Well, it was... unexpected," I called, and was not satisfied with the way my voice wavered.

He lifted his palms in the Human gesture of surrender, and did not look back.

"Hey, you said I didn't have to warn you."

Why?

_Why had I said that?_

_

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_

**Now, before you sharpen those knives and take out the pitchforks, this is the first in a mini-arc involving three chapters (so there's**** still two hugs left in Bryn V :D)**

**Just thought you might want to know!**

**Also, aliens-who-force-our-boys-into-awesome/revealing/uncomfortable-situations FTW!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Every Hug**

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**The Twelfth Time**

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The music echoing around the grand room of the Bryn Prime House was proving rather distracting; the sound waves rebounded against the polished stone walls and created a cacophony of disharmonious chords, which then forced me to work to ignore the sharp pain in my head.

Murmured conversations drifted towards me as well, their owners utterly oblivious to the lack of privacy Vulcan hearing inevitably meant. The banquet was now over and most of the guests had stood from their tables to speak to each other, or dance.

This was the case of Nyota, who was dancing with a small Bryn boy of approximately seven years of age. He laughed incredibly often for reasons I could not fathom, and kept asking her to speak in "strange tunes", as he called the many, many languages the _Enterprise's_ Communications Officer knew. I found that this pleased me; seeing Nyota happy. I found that perhaps I had not seen her exhibit such happiness in a very long time.

While I meditated upon this thought I was maintaining a conversation with one of the Prime Leader's daughters, a twenty-five-year-old girl named Xixía, whose most distinguishing feature were her enormous eyes, with irises of a deep, rich ochre. Combined with purplish skin colouring due to an incredibly low haemoglobin concentration in their blood, the Bryn people were obviously very aesthetically pleasing to the Humans who had beamed down.

Brynnen life-spans were curiously similar to Humans as well, as was their growth-rate, however I had observed minute differences in the process of aging: it was most likely that their metabolism allowed for a slower decay of skin-tissue, for the Prime Leader was allegedly sixty-seven years old yet appeared considerably younger.

The Captain was currently speaking to her and the Prime Husband, gesticulating wildly to make himself understood whenever his translator encountered a difficulty.

The struggle not to express my amusement made a dull ache constrict my throat. Surely it had never been so difficult to restrain the urge to laugh before?

Suddenly our eyes met and he flashed me a wide grin. I nodded minutely and returned to the conversation with Xixía.

"…which is not as white as combining the engines to accommodate a proper propeller for land-travel…" For such a young woman she was quite intelligent. Brynnen seemed to value every individual's achievements very highly, as even the members of the Prime family had full-time occupations. Xixía was involved in mechanics, specifically transport vehicles. "… people tend to forget all the black, too."

The translator was clearly unable to interpret some of her figures of speech. I had already deduced, however, that Bryn associated colours to certain patterns of logic, wherein white was simple, and black complex. Red and blue had been mentioned too, but their meaning remained unclear so far without further evidence.

When I spoke to her about the basics of some rudimentary Vulcan land-vehicles she smiled very brightly, and reached out to touch my arm.

"Hey there, it's Xíxia, right?"

"Xi-_xí_-a." She corrected the Captain's pronunciation of her name with the smallest frown, her irises shimmering slightly in a sign of irritation.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you Xixía, and I'm so sorry to interrupt your conversation with Mr Spock. But you see, my friend doesn't like to be touched, so I'd appreciate if you didn't, okay?" Jim's tone was incredibly friendly but he was obviously tense, almost angry, and standing very close by my side.

"_You_ are touching him," she accused, pointing. I looked and there it was, Jim's hand lightly resting upon my shoulder. I had felt it there, but the touch was so common that I had not even thought of the occurrence as unusual.

He immediately slid away. "Yes, and that was a mistake. Sorry, Spock."

I did not know how to answer his apology appropriately, and so did not.

"See you later." He walked away quickly, and was instantly besieged by requests to dance before he could get back to the Prime Leader.

Abruptly I had the fleeting image of myself taking his hand roughly and leading him into the melody, until his heartbeat was the only thing I could hear, and I would dance to that, and never let him go.

The moment I realised what I was doing (_fantasising_… it was so… Human) I was ashamed of my weakness, and felt fear at the loss of control weakness could bring. This infatuation was getting out of control. I resolved to meditate that very night, despite my exhaustion, and purge all conflicting emotion.

"… so when compared to Terran vehicles the advantages are numerous." I explained.

"Yes, I can understand," Xixía said and blinked once, slowly, then stepped closer. "Spock…" her pronunciation of my name was almost accurate, a rare happenstance among new civilisations. "… do you wish to dance? I know you are not like the eleven others who have come… your sound-eyes are not like theirs. And I see the others like to be touched. Your leader says you do not like to be touched. This is black or white?"

"Unless it is absolutely necessary, my species avoid touching members of other species," I explained.

"So you would not wish to touch me?"

Very briefly, I considered opening my mind to the possibility of her beauty. But I knew it would not affect me as Jim's did. I might find her acceptable, but nothing more, and I certainly did not wish to touch her skin when my tired mind might not be at it's strongest to deflect any alien thoughts. Furthermore, dancing with someone who was not emotionally connected to me in any way was instantly undesirable and unheard of for a true Vulcan.

"No."

Instead of shimmering, her eyes now darkened, but she did not seem angry. "I am negative."

I hypothesised that she was sad. I wished to comfort her, or perhaps apologise as I had seen Humans do when inflicting pain upon others. And then…

"It is white you wish to touch your leader."

I could not think of an adequate response to that statement.

"Hi Spock, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Nyota lightly brushed my arm with a single finger and motioned that I follow her.

"Yes."

She lead me to a less brightly illuminated corner.

"You're welcome," she winked at me. I did not understand.

"I do not understand what I am presupposed to be grateful for."

"Among Humans it's common to 'rescue' a friend who is being propositioned by someone they wish to reject," she explained patiently.

"I see." I _was_ grateful. "Then I thank you."

"No problem."

And with a parting smile she was gone, fleeting and evanescent.

I moved to follow her back to the crowded area (despite the fact that conversations were Jim's field of expertise, and certainly not mine), but was detained.

His fingers barely touched my arms but his voice sounded thundering and sinful in my ear.

"Hey, Spock."

He stood behind me, chin resting against my shoulder.

"Hello, Captain."

I was unable to turn around and face him because he had not left sufficient space between our bodies to allow for such manoeuvrability, so I stood still and waited.

"I'm sorry. I'm touching you again." He did not sound terribly apologetic as he moved away. "It's just so tempting!" He sighed and walked around me, eyes raking my form. "_You're_ so tempting. And no one was looking and you were standing there all dark and mysterious in the shadows… did you hear me come over? Was I quiet enough?"

The glint in his eye meant this was teasing, however, I did not appreciate the humour.

"The music disguised the sound of your footsteps." I admitted.

Something in my flat tone must have alerted him, for he instantly became more serious and there was worry in his expression.

"Sorry, that was really stupid of me now that I think about it. It's just, you _did_ say I could hug you, which does kind of imply touching is involved… do you take it back? Do you want me to stop being such an annoying handsy douche-bag?"

"No, Captain."

My tone remained cold, but I had to clench my jaw to fight the instinctive smile threatening to curve my lips.

"Are you sure? Because I can take a hint, you know. Hugging a rock pillar would probably feel about as warm and welcoming as you right now."

It was remarkably easy not to smile after _that_.

"If the result is the same then I suggest you choose the pillar, for it will surely care more than I," I snapped before thinking over my words. Once I realised what I had said I despised myself immediately: the tone was too emotional, I had used a _metaphor_, and I had lied, all in once sentence.

This was not proper. What was happening to me around the Captain? This seemed to go beyond the realm of physical attraction, how could I act so… irrationally…?

"Forgive me, Captain. I believe it is time for me to depart from this event and retire for the night."

Jim looked horrified.

"No! Please, no, don't go, I'm _so_ sorry Spock, I really am." His face was pained with anguish and regret, he stepped toward me until he had backed me against the wall. "Please stay. _Please_."

Even in the dim light my sharp eyesight allowed me to be defeated by the sheer immensity of those blue, blue eyes.

And I only thought of the adjective twice for emphasis. Not for a poetic touch.

"You're _so_ much better than a pillar and not at all made of stone. You know I don't think about you like that, right? I like you. I really do, honest, I'm an idiot. Please forgive me? Stay?"

He was so anxious to convey this sentiment that he had once again forgotten not to touch me, and his hand was now splayed over my chest, as if to reassure me through telepathy, despite the fact that, as a Human, he possessed none.

However, the sight of him _trying_ stirred something deep inside me.

"Yes, I shall stay."

He smiled, then covertly glanced around us. "Hey, do you think anyone's looking?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can they see us?"

"I believe the relative darkness allows for partial concealment--"

He wrapped his arms around me with a deep sigh of relief, clutching the fabric of the back of my uniform with surprising strength before pulling back. Before I could even react, or return the embrace, or perhaps push him away with all my might, before this became something much more friendly than Jim had intended… he let me go.

A soft and completely unexpected moan of want made its way past my lips, but Jim was grinning brightly and appeared not to have noticed.

"I love that I can just do that whenever I want," he said. The playful edge was back in his voice, but I was no longer in the mood for games. At least, not the kind of innocent games that could happen in public.

"Our absence from the party shall be noted," I told him.

"But I love sneaking around. It's _fun_."

"I do not find this _fun_, Captain."

It was _not_ fun. It was frustrating and irritating and I wanted to shove him against the wall and not have to hold back all of the many, many things that I was certainly not thinking about right at this moment, like letting him feel the full extent of my frustration and stealing his breath with my tongue.

"Well, I suppose we _should_ get some rest. Big day tomorrow and all that," Jim said with a shrug. "Meet you in our room?"

"That is acceptable."

It would be infernally difficult not to wipe that knowing look off his face with kisses.

I was going to do my best.

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**Sooo... I think I was a professional torturer in a past life. I enjoyed torturing people. I did it for a living. Fortunately, in this life it has translated to enjoying torturing FICTIONAL people (and only with UST, which is so much better than knives and other sharp/pointy things ANYWAY), so that's, you know, something...**

**I love you all? :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hmmm... unusually long chapter is unusually long (and posted incredibly soon... I spoil you so ;)**

**I wonder why.**

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**The Thirteenth Time**

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"Your stubbornness may be the symptom of an antiquated and misguided sense of Human chivalry which dictates you must offer me the most comfortable surface to rest upon."

Jim groaned again and threw his hands up in the air in frustration. We both stood at the foot of the large four-poster bed, but neither of us had changed into the appropriate clothing for sleep yet.

"Spock, listen—"

"I am in dire need of meditation and will not require sleep tonight. So you see this entire endeavour—"

"You're _kidding_, right? What, you think I hadn't noticed how tired you've been lately? Tonight is your perfect chance to get some R and I'm _ordering_ you to take it."

His words were unexpected. I had believed my need for rest had remained successfully concealed from the Captain. From the entire crew, in fact. This caused me to become momentarily unable to think of a response to his words. I prided myself on my Vulcan discipline (although of late even that had been horribly lacking) and worked tirelessly on not expressing emotion. Was I perhaps under a false impression? Could _everyone_ see my feelings despite my best efforts not to show them?

"Relax, Spock," Jim said, concerned. My facial expression had not changed; _he could not have known_ I was distressed. "I'm the only one who figured it out. But it's serious, isn't it?"

It was true that I was beginning to push the recommended limits of time even a Vulcan could spend without any rest, but in the past two months I had been occupied, tiring my mind by performing as many simultaneous tasks as possible and never, _never_ dreaming.

"Captain, I assure you…"

"Don't. Don't even try to deny it."

I felt almost as though Jim knew my thoughts, but as I pondered this he tore his gaze away from mine and turned to the bed.

How had he guessed I was tired?

"It's something about your eyes," Jim answered absent-mindedly as he began taking a pillow and blankets and depositing them unceremoniously on the floor. "To me it's pretty obvious," he added, his tone sounding perfectly matter-of-fact over the loud rustle of cloth. He did not understand that I had attempted to conceal the true extent of my torment. To him reading my emotions was… normal.

I was… surprised.

"I am… surprised."

Jim chuckled. "You should sleep, Spock. If your exhaustion has you admitting stuff like that you must be dead on your feet."

"While the idea of rest is not without merit, I have already informed you of my need to meditate. Meditation will serve as relaxation enough," … if I even achieved the relaxed state. It was becoming increasingly difficult to manage lately, so many unanswered questions and unfulfilled… urges were not conducive to calm and serenity.

"Spock, please. I said I wanted this to be easy," Jim said. "Be logical: I'm not going to let you take the floor, so just _let this go_ before it comes to blows. And not the good kind."

Irritation sparked at his words, regardless of my attempts to smother it.

"I was unaware of the existence of a 'good kind' of physical aggression," I said, and picked up the blankets from the floor to deposit them back on the mattress.

"You know what I meant." Jim said exasperatedly.

"Clarify."

"No way," he laughed, shaking his head, and stretched out an arm to grab the sheets again. I intercepted it with ease and excercised the minimum of strength required to stop him.

"Then I may be forced to resort to said physical aggression."

The Captain freed his arm and planted his feet in the determined stance of one who has made up his mind. "Spock, enough is enough. I am not moving from this spot until I see you lying down. To sleep. Okay? Just do as I say, dammit."

"You will move out of my way," I ordered, stepping even closer in hopes of intimidating him with my superior height or strength. Of course I should have known that was futile.

"No, I won't. _Ever_." And he smiled, cheeky, daring, defiant.

Perhaps I _was_ exhausted. Certainly my patience had long been extinguished, but that did in no way justify what I did next.

In an easy (oh, so easy) movement I lifted Jim bodily into the air.

"_Spock_!?"

And threw him onto the bed.

He landed with a yelp and scrambled to sit up; cheeks flushed a becoming rouge and eyes shining, slack-jawed with wonder. There was a burning in my body I could not throttle, a response to the way his thoughts had poured from his skin before I thought to block them.

Because I had felt him burn, too.

"I can't believe you just did that." He said finally, a wicked smile creeping into his expression. "I can't _believe_ it."

"You will stay there," I managed to say.

If he moved, if he so much as smiled a little wider, I would be unable to bear it.

"No, I don't think I'll be doing that, Spock," the Captain said reasonably, and began crawling toward me.

"Jim, _please_," I said before I could stop myself, backing away until I touched the furthest wall.

He stood up but stayed still, away from me.

"Spock… are you attracted to me?"

I could not think logically. I could not speak.

"It's not a crime, you know."

"Stay where you are."

"I'm not moving if that makes you uncomfortable." He had his palms up in the Human gesture of surrender again. He did not know what the gesture performed in a bedroom could signify in Vulcan culture, and I would not, _could not_, under any circumstances, tell him. "See? I'm staying right here." He sat back down at the foot of the bed.

"Thank you."

"Will you answer my question?"

A million alternatives occurred to me in the space of an instant; a million possible answers.

"No."

Jim was clearly not surprised. "Okay. But I'd just like to make something clear first, if that's okay with you?"

I would much prefer he ceased to speak, because his voice was rough and appealing, and incredibly tempting at this moment. But I would not prevent him from expressing an opinion.

"I know you obviously don't feel anything for me in the… uh, romantic sense. I mean, we're friends, and I'm totally cool with that, I love that. It's great. I love being your friend. But if you _were_ attracted to me, well, that wouldn't be a crime, or anything. Is what I'm trying to say. Because I—"

"Jim. I do not—"

"Wait, and let me finish."

I wished the space between us were larger, or my eyesight poorer, or the room darker. I wished I could not see that expression of stubborn strength I so admired and respected in such perfect detail, or notice the bead of sweat rolling down his neck, or the lights reflected in his eyes, blinding me.

"I think you're really hot."

"_What?_" The cry escaped my throat without my mind having a chance to mediate its intensity.

He grinned widely, but the action was not entirely concordant with his expression.

"You heard me; I think you're gorgeous. Really, I mean the ears, the bowl cut, all of it, man, drives me crazy. And let me just say that the way you're hugging that wall right now has me all hot and bothered, too. Also the way you bend over your station when you want to check your readings at the bridge. I've always wanted to know; is that really necessary or do you just love killing me slowly?"

I would never enjoy hurting the Captain, let alone killing him. This was a strange figure of speech.

However, I already knew that this was not entirely Jim speaking. I knew this from the minute facial markers I had become so familiar with over our time together. His small speech had been delivered by the persona Jim became when he spoke without wanting other people to know his true emotions. He rarely used the tone with me; I was disappointed to hear it now, and disappointed to realize he had probably not meant half of what he had said.

"This is a joke?" I asked cautiously.

"A little bit, yeah." He chuckled. I did not like the sound of that, either. "But I _do_ find you attractive," he said, more seriously. "And there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

I shook my head slowly, not altogether convinced I understood his 'point', so to speak.

"So what I'm trying to get you to understand is this: Humans can be attracted to people without being in love with them. Or anything. At all. And… you're half-Human. So if you were to admit it, then it wouldn't have to _mean_ anything—"

"Admitting something implies that it is true," I informed him.

"Yeah. Are you saying it isn't?"

In that second I decided that I would not tell him. A necessary lie to save the Captain from any discomfort and myself from humiliation. Clearly this conversation was not one Jim enjoyed, despite his words of reassurance, because he had needed to lie, too.

Very well.

"I am not attracted to you, Jim."

"Oh. Okay then."

He nodded, once, and did not allow even a hint of hurt to show on his face. I began to walk toward him, confident once more of my ability not to jump on top of him and immerse myself in his mind and his body.

And then suddenly he began taking his shirt off.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, stopping in my tracks.

Jim looked up, the perfect picture of uncomprehending naiveté. "What?"

"Why are you removing your clothing, Captain?"

"Um… sleep? I want it?"

Oh. Of course. Of course, he was going to change into the appropriate garments. Naturally. It was quite understandable.

However it would probably be prudent for me not to be looking at him whilst he did this, I felt. Quite, quite prudent.

Necessary, even.

Imperative.

_Vital_.

"Spock? Are you feeling all right?"

I had clenched my fists with so much force that my nails had dug into my palms and an unexpected flash of painful arousal made me gasp.

"Yes."

"You sure? You sound funny."

I heard him stand up (I had turned away from the sight of his exposed chest gleaming in the low lighting _why must I be tortured so did he not see fit to allow me even a moment's respite please?)_ and take a tentative step toward me.

"I am well, thank you Captain."

"Say that to my face and I'll believe you," he quipped lightly.

I turned to face him. His pants clung precariously to his hips, was the first thing I registered.

"Something wrong, Spock?"

"Not at all."

"Oh. Okay, well, is it weird for you if we both sleep on the bed, then, seeing as how you're so damn set on not letting me sleep on the floor—?"

"No!"

I almost clamped a hand over my mouth in horror. I was out of control. I really must be in dire need of sleep, as it was clear that the neuron-synapses in my brain were malfunctioning.

"'No' it's not weird for you or 'no' you don't want to sleep on the bed?" he asked, puzzled.

I did not know how to reply. This was one of the many reasons why lying should never be an option.

"I mean, you _did_ say you're not attracted to me or anything," Jim added, and an irrational, illogical surge of anger nearly caused me to pin him down right then.

"Of course you may also sleep on the bed, Captain," I said, calling upon a lifetime of study on the mastering of my emotions to impose a semblance of calm upon my tone.

Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, then. Great."

He began unbuttoning his pants and I _refused to put myself through that and_ fled the room. By the time he looked up I was outside.

In the corridor the cool air was _not_ soothing, the dark sky through glass windows was _not_ comforting, and all I wanted was to run back inside. Not just walk, but _run_.

"Spock?" Jim's voice was as loud as if he'd spoken in my ear.

I was having… uncertainties. How perfectly Human of me, I thought with dismay. Was I strong enough to endure this? Perhaps if I had had time to erect a mental shield that was powerful enough, or if I was not so exhausted, but now… I had never felt this fear, before. In my entire existence I had feared anger, and pain, and sadness. But never…

"_Spock_?"

I went back in.

"You mind telling me what the hell's going on?"

"Nothing is 'going on'. Now please let us just retire for the night, is that acceptable?"

He was at least wearing loose fitting shorts. I knew I should be thankful for that.

Yet I could not muster any gratitude whatsoever.

"So we're just gonna pretend you didn't walk out of the room without an explanation?" Jim snorted.

"Yes," I said, and removed my shirt with a little more force than was probably strictly necessary, thus tearing a sleeve.

"Hey, whoa there!" Jim laughed, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

"What?" I walked over to my suitcase and deposited the folded garment inside.

"I _just_ admitted I'm attracted to you and you're not gonna give a little warning that you're about to take your clothes off?"

I considered the notion that my exposed skin could be tempting Jim. It was… heady. My anger vanished with disturbing speed and was replaced by an overwhelming happiness.

"_You_ did not give _me_ any warning," I answered smoothly.

"_You_ said you weren't attracted to me," Jim countered with a triumphant grin.

"I am aware of what I said, and stand by it, Captain."

"Good."

We turned as one toward the large bunk. My new-found happiness wavered slightly as the prospect of a night spent smothering every instinct without meditation dawned on me.

"So… we should sleep."

"I believe we had already agreed on that, Captain."

"I can't believe you're still calling me Captain when we're about to sleep in the same bed together."

He playfully punched my shoulder without meeting my gaze, and I could not resist an incredibly superficial mind-probe, just to ascertain he really was as calm and collected as he appeared.

A terrible mistake.

Under Jim's skin dwelled a roiling mass of impeccably concealed emotions that left me breathless. He was sad for reasons I had no time to decipher, but he was also excited. He was not anticipating sleep, he was anticipating a long, uncomfortable night having to resist kissing me… and there were some images floating in his thoughts that I- because he had admitted he wanted me, even if there was nothing emotional behind that desire.

But I wanted him so much_, and there was something_--it was too much.

It was the final straw.

I had had enough.

"Wha—?"

I threw him onto the bed with ridiculous ease and spared a second to see that expression again, the surprise, the exhilaration, the glint of awe, and then I was on top of him, finally, _finally_ and it was wonderful, the way he was looking at me like he'd won.

I immediately took both of his hands and slammed our palms together, sliding my fingers down his so we were completely entwined, but the sudden, stunning force of my own response to this contact made me stop, panting for breath.

This was unfamiliar; I had not anticipated such a powerful reaction. I had not even known it was possible for me to feel this way. Already the flow of my blood was out of my control, and I had to fight for a _different_ kind of restraint. I had never encountered a problem like this before.

Fascinating_._

"Spock." Jim whispered, looking intently up at my face. "_What are you doing_?"

I did not know what I was doing, but I wanted more of it. This new type of discipline clearly warranted a more profound study, and I could not wait to try myself again.

I licked his chest and, without releasing his hands (although I knew better than to move them too much this time), made my way down the vast expanse of muscle, savouring every minuscule sign of Jim's pleasure.

"_Spock_…"

He wrapped a leg around my torso and groaned, the sound reverberating in my ears, and I found this, too, proved a difficult test to the new kind of control. It was intoxicating.

Eager for more challenges, I started a lightest of probes, merely to taste the surface of his more basic emotions. Yet even those made me halt again, breathing heavily. I could easily lose myself with just his thoughts, but I knew I mustn't do that. I wanted Jim to lose himself too. With me.

I slid back up and touched a single finger to his temple; through that I let a small amout of telepathic transferrence pass from my mind onto his.

"Oh _God,"_ he choked, arching his back and closing his eyes. "Again."

He had bitten his lip so hard a single ruby-red bead blossomed at the corner. I licked it away immediately, then kissed his cheek, and his jaw, and his ear, his temple, all the places I wanted to touch, aware every second of the fact that I must not meld with him despite the burning in my right hand, craving his thoughts.

"Again. Spock, again please, oh my God…"

I kissed his eyelids, then the tip of his nose, then down to his neck…

"Spock... come on… _again_…" He gasped, rocking our hips together.

I hissed, and almost succumbed right then, not having foreseen what the friction would do to my system. It was a very difficult kind of fight, this one, and despite his Human expletives and groans, Jim seemed to be winning.

I gently allowed a bit more of my emotions to pour into his mind and he moaned, loudly and without restraint, and I deepened the probe, unable to help myself, slowly sinking in, feeling my vision blur as I began to drown—

"Are you reading my thoughts?" Jim whispered suddenly, his expression so vulnerable and afraid that my control regained _me_. I was slammed back to reality with the force of a physical blow.

I drew away at once, and let go of his hands, abruptly aware of what had been about to happen, and feeling my insides go cold.

I stumbled out of the bed and stood up.

"Spock… Spock, wait." Jim scrambled up after me and clutched my shoulders, his eyes wide and fevered, lips swollen, hair ravaged… "Spock, I'm sorry." He wanted to make it better but_ nothing would ever make it better, I was no more than an impulse-driven Human after all, I had succumbed to this need knowing Jim did not care for me, thinking that I did not care for him, I was so deeply, so vastly _ashamed_…_

"_Were_ you reading my thoughts?" He asked carefully, looking deep into my eyes.

"I was about to," I admitted, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, fast and loud.

"But you didn't." He sounded incredibly relieved. There was a sharp, instant pain in my side at his words, but I did not understand it's appearance; I had already known Jim did not wish to share his mind with me.

"No."

"Then don't look at me like that," the Captain commanded.

"I cannot look at you any other way, Jim."

My voice trembled slightly. I stopped speaking.

"Hey. It's okay. Breathe. Relax. It's okay." He kissed my forehead, gently, his hands resting against my chest. "Calm down. We're okay. Calm down. We'll be fine."

I wanted him to keep doing this, but needed him to pull away.

He did, walking backwards a few steps. "It's okay, Spock." He said again, and I closed my eyes and forced myself to do the only thing that would have saved us.

I believed him.

"Let's sleep," Jim said firmly. "Let's just sleep and once we've rested this will all be better, I promise."

But a very strange thing had happened to me then.

I had regained the mastery of my emotions once more.

"I believe… I am well, Captain." I said. My shields were back up. My feelings were no longer erratic and difficult to contain. I had not felt this secure since the time before we had begun embracing. "I believe my madness has passed."

Jim blinked. Then, with a tremendous effort, he smirked. "Madness, huh? Is that what you Vulcans are calling it these days?"

I allowed the smallest smile to briefly show on my face. Jim caught it and his expression became a touch more sincere. "Are you sure you'll be fine?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes."

My mind had obviously created a fortress around itself for self-protection, a powerful enough shield that I was back in control. Behind the walls there was something I knew I would need to deal with, however it would have to wait, just a little while. This night. I was going to let myself have this night of blissful oblivion.

"That's amazing. I'm so glad you're okay."

"I must admit… I, too, am relieved. I had not expected this."

There was a pause.

"Let's hug it out." Jim said with a grin.

"_What_?"

He wanted me to touch him again? Had he not understood _anything_?

"You're quite monosyllabic today, aren't you?" He took a step toward me. "I meant, let's hug it out and put this behind us, okay? We'll be fine." Beneath his light tone I could sense something else. A fear, mirror to mine. "Spock… we'll be _fine_, right?"

I opened my arms and he threw himself into it, breathing in deeply and contentedly.

"Thank God I can still do this," he whispered.

"I am grateful, too."

Due to the recent situation between us this embrace was short, and Jim drew away with a sheepish grin.

"Hey, at least I finally got you to admit you're attracted to me."

"I believe I never said such a thing," I said.

"You're kidding, right?" Jim laughed.

"No." Had he not understood by now that it was not in my habit to make 'jokes'?

I walked over to the bed and climbed inside. It smelled of what had happened. Thankfully, the mental shields held firm, so far.

"Right, sure, we're just _really_ good colleagues…" I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh my God you're _serious_!" He jumped in and covered himself with the bundle of sheets. "This is priceless! You're actually saying--?"

"I am not attracted to you, Jim."

There was no need to complicate this situation any more than it already was.

"And you expect me to believe that? After everything that just… almost happened?"

"Of course. You will not hear me say otherwise." I did not like lying and today's events had proved just how bad it could be, but I had no choice.

Also, Jim's astonished expressions were quite humorous to observe.

"I can't _believe_ you."

"Then you shall remain under an erroneous impression, Captain."

"Oh yeah? We'll see about _that_."

He stretched comfortably and closed his eyes with a wide, wicked smile.

"Good night Spock."

And suddenly I was no longer quite sure I had chosen the more intelligent option. The best one, certainly, but… Jim's tone held promises. Promises that spoke of more challenges.

"Good night, Jim."

Despite everything, I slept deeply and utterly, reassured by the presence of Jim… so close.

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**Oh hey, do you hear that? That's the sound of puppies/bunnies/tribbles/Spock's pet sehlat wanting you to review! Awwww... give in to the fluffy cuteness! ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm so flattered by the comments I've been getting you guys, it's a bit overwhelming in the best way possible! :D THANK YOU! **

**So… AngelBaby1 is awesome. You all know this. You SHOULD all know this. And because she is awesome she pimped this fic in one of her A/N. So I am now doing that too, also, as well, in return. So if you haven't read her fic "Atlas" you should, you know, read it.**

**NAO.**

**(but be warned symptoms include randomly shouting "FU sleep!")**

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**The Fourteenth Time**

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The relationship between the Captain and myself was not changed dramatically by the events of Bryn V, although we never touched again, let alone embraced. I was glad of this. On the bridge we consistently remained professional, at least as professional as we had been before, and when off-duty we still sometimes ate meals together if our shifts allowed it. Jim did not even resort to the Human custom of pretending that what had happened that night… had not happened. In fact, when we were alone, he often referenced it. Quite often.

Peculiarly often.

It was infuriating, really, the number of times he would bring the topic into a conversation, trying to catch me unawares or trap me into 'admitting' something. He was stubborn and insistent, but I had spent a lifetime learning to conceal what I was thinking. I saw no logic in telling him that his suspicions were true; Jim knowing that I was sexually attracted to him did in no way change our present situation.

After extensive mediation and internal struggle, I had decided not to breach the walls my mind had erected to protect itself. I did not know what it was protecting me _from_, but if my reaction had been so instinctively powerful, it must be knowledge best learnt after I had given myself time to regain strength and order. There was no immediate danger. After the period of intense struggle and the beginnings of the dangerous spiral that was Jim Kirk… it was logical to postpone a possible crisis until I was ready to face its consequences and deal with them accordingly.

Only sometimes, when I was falling asleep, did a strange taunting voice whisper in my ear… _that I was afraid_.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying, Spock?" Jim's voice said loudly over the communicator. I was sitting in my room preparing to meet him in the gymnasium for a sparring match. The Captain and I had never fought before… for recreational purposes. I had to admit to a negative instinctual reaction to the activity because Jim had asked me to join him in a most peculiar manner. The exact conversation went thus:

"_So Spock, here's a crazy idea; you and me, tomorrow, a sparring match. Sound like a plan?"_

_"I think not."_

"… _Wow, okay. Are you gonna elaborate that negative?"_

_"I would overpower you with excessive ease. Fighting you would not be a challenge for me, and you might be better suited to practice with someone else. Someone Human, so that you are more evenly matched."_

_"Think of it as a favour, so I can improve—"_

"_You can improve by fighting another Human."_

"… _Huh. Okay, I guess you have a point… maybe I can ask Kyle, he'll probably say yes."_

"_Ensign McGregor? A poor choice, he is much taller than you, and has more muscle definition."_

"_Oy, my muscle definition is perfect."_

"_I said he had more, I did not say that yours was not perfect."_

"…"

_"Jim?"_

_"Ngh? Nothing. Okay then, what about Security Officer--?"_

_"If you are so insistent upon sparring with someone of superior strength I suppose I shall have to volunteer. I am the best candidate, for I will not harm you unintentionally."_

_"Awesome. So you and me, tomorrow, a sparring match. It's a plan."_

"Spock! Hellooooo? Are you even _there_?"

"I am here, Captain."

"Hallelujah. So I'll see you in five minutes?"

"Yes."

While my calm and serenity had returned since Bryn V, testing them to their limits was not a logical course of action.

I left my quarters to meet him.

Exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds later I entered one of the training rooms, to find the Captain was already there, waiting. He wore his usual exercising attire; red pants and a light grey shirt, and sat on top of a pile of mats at the corner of the small, square space.

He was also smiling faintly, but not in a way that conveyed much happiness. I did not understand this expression.

"Hey Spock."

"Hello, Captain."

"You're sparring in your uniform?" he chuckled.

"Yes."

"Aren't you going to remove the blue shirt, at least?"

"Very well." I did, hoping he was satisfied.

Jim stood and rolled his shoulders. "Great. So, are you ready?"

"It would be prudent to stretch your muscles before engaging in physical activity."

The strange light in his eyes flared brighter. Something in him was not quite right, he was masking his emotions again. We both were, this time.

"I'm feeling a bit reckless today. Let's skip all that."

"I do not think—"

Suddenly he lashed out, a fast arm aiming directly for my zygomatic bone. I deflected the blow, but it had been utterly unexpected and deceptively strong.

Jim grinned and I did not experience my usual difficulty in not returning the gesture. I was about to ask him what troubled him, but he struck again, this time both with a foot and a punch, perhaps an attempt to distract me.

It had worked.

I avoided his fist but found myself thrown off balance by the kick, and when he threw his weight behind another punch I staggered backward, although I did not fall; the gravity setting in the ship being equivalent to Earth's, therefore facilitating my movements.

"Come on, Spock, you said this would be a piece of cake for you!"

Disregarding his strange form of figurative speech, I launched myself at Jim and easily threw him to the floor, pinning his arms above his head in an attempt to demonstrate 'my point'.

"I said fighting you would not be a challenge for me," I reminded him. His skin had begun to perspire, and I stood up quickly, feeling the slight pressure in the walls of my mind, behind it something threatening to spill, something that called out to the Captain. It had been foolish to come here.

And yet as I gazed down at him prone on the floor I knew I could not leave.

Jim was gasping for breath. "That was… brutal," he said, a more usual grin momentarily passing over his features before that unnerving feverish light returned.

"Captain, what is—?" Before I could complete my question he had sprung up in an impossibly agile jump and adopted a defensive position.

"Let's not talk for now," he panted.

"I believe there is something wrong—"

"Shut up, Spock."

My irritation began to grow and I was forced to smother it firmly.

"Jim. You are exhibiting strange behaviour—"

He slammed his open palm to the side of my face, and I had insufficient time to stop him. The incredibly painful blow sounded like thunder inside my head.

"Come on," he teased, and it was anger I had to fight next, a boiling, heated anger for this ghost of Jim Kirk which had taken over my Captain's sculpted body and did not allow me to see his emotions. This was irrational anger, made more powerful by its lack of discipline.

"Fight me," he said.

I could not refuse.

In two point six seconds he crashed onto the floor, and I let him get back up, only to kick him on the knee with measured accuracy and watch as he fell down yet again. The third time he stood slowly, favouring his right leg, and I waited so that he would regain his balance. Subsequently, he jumped on top of me and hurled us both against the padded surface.

There were beads of sweat rolling down his neck and I observed them with care and detachment, not letting myself fall again, not letting the colours cloud my judgement as had occurred previously. Not letting myself truly _see_ him, because that would lead to a repetition of certain events, certain events which had been halted rather abruptly…

Jim fought with a strange combination of surprising skill and technique in certain moves, and brute force when those did not work. He soon resorted to keeping us scruffling on the floor, for I had less maneuverability and became much more easily distracted if he was _all around me_; to my faint surprise this tactic worked very efficiently. I had to exert myself much more than anticipated to continue to dominate him.

"Do you give up?" he grunted with a weak attempt at a chuckle, straddling my hips.

I rolled us over until his back impacted the soft floor once more, and did not answer. It was increasingly difficult to block out unwanted thoughts, but I was strong, much stronger than him, and I avoided his glowing eyes and closed my mind to the sounds it picked up.

Suddenly his nails scraped my palm and I tasted blood in my mouth; I had bitten my cheek with excessive strength. Jim used my distraction to flip me over and pin me down again. But he did not strike.

"Will you admit it now?"

"… No."

He laughed, and at that moment I seized his collar in an attempt to dislodge him, but miscalculated the tension of the fabric, and ripped the shirt considerably. Jim was obviously startled, which finally gave the leverage to throw him completely off of me.

"I believe it is time we terminate this exercise," I informed him, needing space, needing time and meditation and control.

"What? But we've only just begun—hey, you're bleeding." His tone changed dramatically when he realized this; and he stood up immediately and came toward me.

"Does it hurt?"

It did not. Pain was nothing compared to having to resist his presence, while that something behind the walls in my mind wanted him, sang out to him, needed…

"No, Captain. As you know, I am able to control neural impulses—"

"Yeah, yeah, you're a tough guy, I get it." Jim reached out a finger to touch me; needless to say such contact was to be avoided, and I stepped back. He sighed. "Just let me take a look," he added stubbornly, and cool fingers inclined my jaw, then slid his thumb between my lips and inspected my mouth with perfect composture.

Perhaps had I been unable to hear his pounding heart and rapid breathing I might have convinced myself this was not a sexual contact in any way.

Sadly, that was not the case.

"You must have bitten your cheek by accident," he said slowly, although he knew that I never would have done such a thing accidentally. "I'll tell Bones to take a look, okay?"

"That is not necessary."

"Yeah it is." He breathed deeply and removed his shredded garment in a swift, practiced move. Easy, as though his shirts were torn every day. "You can go now if you want. It's okay."

He was wrong. I _needed_ to depart. I did not want to. However I must, so I nodded and typed the appropriate code for the door to open.

"Wait," he called, like the desperate word burst out of his chest without his permission, it was so wanton and sad. And that, more than his naked chest, made me stop and turn.

"Hug me?"

No. Not possible.

"There is no logical reason for an embrace at this time."

"There's never a logical reason for it," Jim countered.

"Nevertheless, I wish to depart."

"But… but I need this. Please. Before you go?"

I wanted so much to give in, but I was doing this for him, all for him, protecting him. I could not be his friend now, not if we were to remain thus.

"I am sorry, Captain. I cannot."

Suddenly he cocked his head to the side, tendons in his neck taunt and electric eyes burning with the unsettling light I did not like. "Oh, I see." He blinked. "Okay, you can go."

"Thank you." I began walking away once more, and that was when he said it.

"You can't handle it."

"Excuse me?"

He stretched his arms, pectorals straining and sharply defined. My saliva production increased considerably at the sight, despite the fact that, somehow, I maintained a semblance of calm.

"You're attracted to me and you can't handle too much contact right now. That's fine, I get it." He nodded helpfully toward the door. "You can go."

"No."

"Spock, it's okay. I just said you can leave, it's as good as finally admitting it, we're good. I told you it didn't mean anything, though. No big deal."

"I do not admit—"

"But it's only Human—"

The insult was the final straw. I walked up to him until our noses were almost touching and braced myself.

"All right."

Jim's jaw dropped.

"Do it, Captain."

"Just… just to make this clear, you're asking me to hug you?"

"Yes. Because of your previous request, of course. And to demonstrate how I am unaffected by your physical proximity."

"Wow. I never thought that would actually work. Apparently even Vulcans can't resist reverse psychology."

"Vulcans are unaffected by ancient Earth fancies such as psychol—"

Jim cut off my next words by throwing his arms around my neck. His smell flooded my nostrils; sweat and Human, strong and intoxicating.

He did not let go immediately, however. Instead he moved his body against mine, slowly, tentatively, a caress of arms and legs and hips and chests, his bare torso making the pounding heartbeat louder inside of me, and at that precise moment I chose to remember Bryn V and "_I think you're hot_,_"_ badly lit visions I had caught in Jim's mind when he'd thought about me, about us, because he had said he wanted me, he had begged for me, had he not, for more—?

"Jim!"

Cold, cold air in the space where Jim had been, and a bright red flush in his cheeks. Dr McCoy stood in the doorway, stern, angry gaze trained upon us.

"Hey, Bones…"

"What the hell do you think—?"

"Don't start."

"Don't tell me what to do, you little masochistic _idiot_!" the doctor snapped. "You skipped the physical, _and_ you're—"

"Spock was just leaving, right Spock?" Jim said tiredly. I had not understood more than fifty percent of their exchange.

"Well, maybe Spock should hear this—"

"No." For a second the flare of light in his eyes disturbed me. "Spock, go. Now. And Bones, you can yell at me another time, all right? I think my shift starts in half an hour and I've got to go shower—"

"You will listen to me for ten minutes first, and then you can take the blasted shower. Spock, get out of here."

I began leaving, clearly this discussion did not pertain me and Dr McCoy was looking distinctly… protective of the Captain, glaring at me with undisguised contempt. I had not known his physical exam was scheduled for this time. Clearly Jim's only purpose in this sparring session had been to miss it, and I was simply one in many candidates.

My breathing was heavy and laboured as I passed the physician.

"_You'd better not hurt him again, Spock_."

He barely spoke the words loudly enough for my ears, to ensure Jim didn't hear them, I deduced. They cut straight into me, their meaning utterly confusing, for the doctor was implying a previous offense, and all I ever wanted was for Jim to be happy, for Jim to smile and laugh because when he laughed everything simply became brighter and better although of course that notion was impossibly irrational, and yet I knew it to be true.

"Bye, Spock. See you at the bridge for Alpha shift?"

"Yes, Captain."

As I walked away their voices were still audible for some time.

"What are you _doing_ to yourself you stupid, stupid fool?!"

"I'm _fine_."

"You look like hell. After Alpha shift you're coming in for a full scan, and until I figure out what the hell is wrong with you, stop hugging the damn Vulcan."

"But that makes it _better_—"

"No it doesn't, it's emotionally self-destructive and it just makes you—"

I could hear no more without stopping and walking back to eavesdrop. And that was unheard of in a Vulcan.

Also, Ensign Rand happened to be walking along the corridor and may have questioned me.

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**Because this fic was seriously missing a hot gym scene :D**

**I'm so sorry about the angst bbs, but the plot thickens and with that come certain side-effects… just know that ILU and…**

**Jim's sweaty naked chest wants you to review? ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Every Hug

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**The Fifteenth Time

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The walls were crumbling.

I could feel it at every moment, as days passed and the Captain continued to surprise me and inspire my deep respect, to challenge me and trust me at the same time. My body craved his body and my mind craved his mind, and for all the eased tension the walls had provided, that, too, was beginning to fade.

During meditative periods they strained against the weight of what was hidden behind them, wavering, flickering, and weak. I knew it would be soon, very soon, before I was forced to tear them down.

And yet I needed my utmost concentration, calm and focus for the current mission, and so had to postpone the revelation yet again, despite the fact that I was beginning to tire of the gap in the knowledge of my own emotions, my innate scientific curiosity only warring with a slight… apprehension.

After the successful integration of Bryn V into the Federation, Starfleet Command had assigned a rather more complex assignment for the _Enterprise_ and her crew. We were to retrieve a team of stranded scientists that had issued a distress-call after landing on a Class M planet near our system. From the poorly-transmitted message Lieutenant Uhura had been able to decipher that the native species had attacked their camp and destroyed valuable equipment. Two men had been captured and one killed. Three had escaped, and managed to salvage a communicative device and signal their small vessel, which in turn had automatically sent it to the nearest outpost.

The Federation's preliminary scans had not detected any humanoid lifeforms, obviously the atmosphere had somehow fooled them.

Since we had received the pertinent instructions Jim had pushed the engines to warp 8 with the assistance of Mr Scott and myself in struggling to maintain such a speed for extended periods of time. However, after completing my tasks I had spent the entire day carefully preparing another shield in order to completely ignore the Captain's effects on me.

I could not afford a single minute distraction.

By the time I left my quarters to get back for my shift the barrier was so powerful that it compared to the healing shield I had been forced to create to save my mind from the agony of a broken bond when my intended bond-mate, the lady T'Pring, died on Vulcan seventeen months ago. It was that strong.

Jim shattered it within the first 3.986 seconds.

And that was when I realised just how serious the situation was.

"Arrival in thirty-four minutes," the Captain said. Absent nods from the tense crew answered this and Ensign Chekov relayed the message ship-wide.

Before going to my station I walked over to Jim's side, despite the fact that the ideal course of action now would be to stay away from him. But he was sitting in his chair with tension in every line of his body, and there was something more, as well… something wrong.

"Captain."

"Yes, Mr Spock?"

"Has your health not improved since Dr McCoy's physical exam nine days ago?"

A faint smile ghosted over his features before he shook his head. "Nah. But Bones thinks I picked up something at Bryn V, a stomach virus or something, because I haven't been eating so well."

"I see." His eyes were hollow and sunken, his skin pale. I did not matter if Jim was really troubled, and his health appeared to have worsened since I last saw him. I wished to help him, somehow. To comfort him.

… Of course.

"Captain, may I speak to you in private a moment?"

Jim was clearly surprised at my request. "Can this wait? We're going to get there in thirty minutes, Spock."

But he had said it helped. I wanted to help. I would push aside my own complicated _katra_ and be the friend Jim deserved. Now, while I still could.

"I shall be brief, sir."

Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Well if it's got you calling me 'sir' it must be serious." But his tone was light and most of the bridge crew chuckled nervously. Lieutenant Uhura was the only one who looked at me intently and frowned.

He stood and walked into the turbolift, then waited for me to get inside and the doors closed before halting it.

"What is it, Spock?"

A spark of his more usual vivacity became momentarily visible when I turned to face him.

"I wish to comfort you."

To his credit, Jim recovered rather quickly from the shock I had known (anticipated) my choice of words would elicit in him.

"… How?" He crossed his arms with a sly smile, defiant, bold.

"The customary embrace, of course."

"What made you think I need comforting?"

"Your health is not optimal. I fear it has deteriorated progressively."

"And you want to cure me by hugging me? That's not very logical, Spock." But the spark was glowing brighter, and he had grinned truly. I felt a jolt in my side.

"Perhaps your stress-levels are abnormally high, and you have not been resting sufficiently. Humans are one of the few species that can suffer physical long-term consequences from their emotions."

"Ah. Well, that's _very_ logical."

His praise nearly prompted an unexpected smile from me in return.

"Thank you Captain." I said, content despite recent events.

"So to be absolutely clear, it's _just_ a hug you're offering here," Jim said.

My desire to smile vanished quite rapidly, as something else took it's place.

"What else would comfort you, Captain?"

I should never have asked that question. I had not consciously thought of it, it had simply… happened. The shield was frail, almost gone.

Jim blinked. "Well there's plenty of stuff we can do in ten minutes." He held up his fingers and began counting off activities. "What do you say we skip explanations and I demonstrate—"

I stepped away, horrified at what I had done this time. Purposefully putting myself in the way of temptation was beyond ridiculous. It was practically _Human_.

"_No_. Forgive me, I did not mean—"

He laughed; a rare sound, of late. I relished it.

"Spock, calm down. I know you didn't, I was _joking_."

"Again?"

This prompted yet another vocal expression of mirth.

"Yeah. Sorry. But does the offer for a hug still stand?"

"I do not rescind--"

Jim sighed and immediately stepped into me and slid his arms around my back, the silken brush of his cheek against mine a pleasant touch.

I remained in control as he breathed deeply and clung tighter.

I remained in control as his leg slowly wrapped around my body.

I remained in control as his lips parted and I felt a moist kiss on my shoulder.

I still remained in control when his nails dug deep into my back, raking hard and suddenly his teeth sank into the tender flesh of my neck, so sharp…

"_Captain_."

I did not shout. Not… exactly.

Jim gasped and pushed himself away, stumbling backward until he hit the furthest wall.

He closed his eyes, face strained. "I… didn't mean to?"

"That is unlikely," I whispered, needing things to be structured, clear, no metaphors or emotions; needing blank facts for a few seconds to compose myself.

But to my surprise I realised that the shield had held. I could still think logically, I was not lost to the colours… not yet.

"You know, this is very unhealthy. This is exactly the sort of stuff Bones keeps warning me about, and I know I shouldn't do," Jim spoke matter-of-factly, but I could still see a fresh fear in his eyes.

But… he had said it comforted him. He had said he wanted it. How could he now change his mind and say it caused his health to worsen? A dull ache caused my head to throb painfully. Was perhaps 'unhealthy' not a literal meaning? I needed logic. So many contradictions. So many emotions.

He had lied. Or he had withheld his disgust for me, because he was too kind to tell me. My entire perception had been wrong. But… why? I had not told him I derived any pleasure from the gesture. This was entirely illogical.

He _had_ wanted it, he was always the one to initiate it. I did not understand—

"Spock?"

I looked up at him; he was leaning heavily against the panelling. My own doubts and confusions faded instantly in the face of his pain. Would he let me support him if I did not ask permission?

I was in control. My logic had not deserted me. This notion gave me strength. I would find a way to help him. I did not matter. Only he mattered. Only Jim.

"Spock, I swear I didn't really plan… I'm so sorry. Oh my God I'm _so_ sorry. I can't believe…"

I did not know how to comfort him verbally, since I had no answer to his ailment; Dr McCoy was the physician, he should have found a cure. But I would find another way.

"Do not apologise, it is not—"

"Did I hurt you?" He said abruptly.

"Of course not. Do not concern yourself with me, my only wish is that you feel better."

A disbelieving sigh. "I have no idea why I did that. What is _wrong_ with me?"

"You are ill. Dr McCoy should never have cleared you for duty."

"Oh he tried to stop me. But until he can tell me _why_ I'm not allowed to work, I will." Jim said firmly. "Unless he can point to a test result and say 'You are infected with _this_ virus' I'm staying on the bridge. This mission is important, Spock. Five lives depend on us."

"I respect your decision." If I could not agree with it.

"Thank you. It's just… I have no idea what's happening to me. And I _hate_ not knowing stuff." He slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. I carefully approached him and proceeded to sit beside him.

"You are unwell, Captain."

"You have such a wonderful knack for stating the glaringly obvious, Spock." Jim chuckled weakly.

I ached. This was not an ache that could be shut behind walls or protected or repressed or ignored or forgotten. It was the need to care for him, as a friend, to be, in every figurative and literal sense of the word, _there_.

"Twenty-two minutes remain before we are ready to orbit the planet, Captain."

"... You trying to tell me something, Spock?" He teased.

"Yes."

A small smile told me the tactic had worked. It usually did.

"I believe you would benefit from a period of rest."

"I can't really rest in twenty minutes, plus I want to be back there to supervise—"

"Ten minutes. You may sit here, and I will remain beside you for another ten minutes. We will not speak… nor do anything else," I added hastily, just in case. Jim snorted, then coughed. "You will relax, and take deep breaths and not concern yourself with emotion for ten, blank minutes. You will close your eyes."

He did as I instructed, and I gently traced his earlobe with one finger, propriety was so far gone between us that yet another breach of it paled to insignificance.

"You will attempt to achieve a state during which you will not think at all."

I said quietly, and Jim gave a sort of small whimper and clenched his fists.

"I can't."

"You will."

His hands remained tense. I could not afford hesitations. The mission was potentially dangerous and if this small stretch of quiet could help him in any way, then it was vital.

"You will breathe deeply and think of nothing." It is impossible to think of nothing, of course, but I allowed the fallacy for it served my purpose at this time.

"You will feel calm and relaxed."

I touched his hand as lightly and gently as I could and separated the fingers. I did not feel. The walls were crumbling but for this my logic stayed. To witness this.

"You will feel peace. For ten minutes. You will allow yourself ten minutes."

"Spock…" In a sudden movement Jim clasped my hand. His grip was strong and Human, an anchor, and I did not even consider letting him go. "I can't afford to sleep now." There was terror in his voice.

I ached.

"I will be here to wake you. Ten minutes."

He frowned, even with his eyes closed. "But I--"

"I will be here."

"Promise?" He whispered.

"… Promise."

With agonising slowness his whole body unwound and became pliant next to mine, muscles loosening and unclenching, tension gone. Finally he leaned his head against my shoulder, soft golden locks caressing my jaw, and slept.

And for ten minutes we kissed in silence, but Jim never knew.

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**I just love the image of them lying there side by side… *sigh***** A bit of fluff to make up for the recent angst-fest, yes? :D**

**All right everyone****, this is The Last Spock-Wading-Along-A-River-In-Egypt Hug I am subjecting you to! HUZZAH! Say bye to the Nile! *waves***


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh ****my bbs, could you be any more awesome? I don't think so! *happyflail***

**To the lovely a****nonymous reviewers: HAI! I wish I could reply to so much amazing (geddit? That was my subtle way of asking you to get accounts! I'm almost as subtle as TOS! :D), but have to settle for thanking you all here: KindaCrazy, anonreader, jes, SilverNY57, l-girl, amelie, tanjaswed, ****kauniainen, homicidal_intent, lily, Talpomh, Mila and I'm sorry if I left anyone out, just know I. LOVE. EVERYONE! *group hug*

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**The Sixteenth Time

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There were so many sounds to filter in battle.

I strained my ears to capture every single one; to separate every drop of water falling from the splat of a footstep on muddied ground, the clash of wood against metal from a grunt of pain… but the roaring sound of the rain drowned every other detail and left me powerless to rely on hearing alone. I could not make out the distinctive sound of Jim's breaths, let alone the faint pattern of his heartbeat, to ensure he was in no imminent danger, and this meant I was reduced to having to look around every fifteen seconds.

A calculated distraction that could nevertheless prove fatal.

We were in an open clearing amidst a dense forest of brown, yellow-leaved trees. Before the vicious humanoids attacked they had thrust a hard wooden staff with jagged edges into my arms; perhaps fighting an unarmed adversary breached some sort of ethical or moral code in their culture. Jim was given a mace with sharpened spikes, and immediately separated from me in the heat of the fight.

They were a very primitive society, barely beyond Earth's equivalent Iron Age, and instinctively violent toward us. Thankfully all five stranded scientists had been located before the downpour began, however on a less fortunate note this planet's precipitating liquid was not merely a solution of oxidized hydrogen as in Earth. The radioactive materials suspended in it prevented all transporter activity due to ionic interference which made it impossible to register the coordinates of an individual humanoid and beam him onto the ship, thus leaving the scanners blind to life-forms as small as us.

The briefest of cessations in the storm had enabled Engineer Scott to dematerialise the lost team and the rest of the landing party back to the _Enterprise_, but the Captain had insisted on being last, so naturally after a short (and pointless) discussion I had declared my refusal to leave him alone and was (rather begrudgingly) allowed to stay behind as well.

The rain had resumed before the we could be beamed to safety.

We were vastly outnumbered, but still fighting. My strength was evenly matched to our opponent's, and the weapons we had been presented with were proving their worth at every second, for without them the Captain and I would surely be dead already. But the fact that I was as strong as the three natives attempting to permanently terminate my life meant that Jim was not.

And I was not strong enough to reach him.

My initial aversion to harming another living being vanished with disturbing speed once I realised the Captain was in terrible danger. His weapon was heavy in Human arms, and not easily manoeuvrable.

I halted the club aimed at my head with a firm arm and stabbed back with the staff, catching a man in the stomach, then twisted and dodged the double-edged blade to my chest but couldn't avoid another strong club to my side; the woman wielding it looked particularly discontent and displayed a strong aggression. The blossoming pain near my heart was roughly shoved back in my mind and I kept ducking and spinning, fighting them all, for him, all for him.

So many sounds.

Every drop, every step, the slippery mud, the distant thunder that hurt my ears and rang inside my head long after it had died. Too many sounds.

Which was why I did not hear the swish of the blade, not until I felt its tip jab into my neck, a clear threat, and I was prevented from further mobility. The person behind me spoke a strange, rasping word I could not interpret. Then the staff was wrenched from my grip and flung too far for me to reach.

I tried to locate the outline of Jim's figure in the storm and caught flashes of colour, of the Captain moving in an agile and deadly dance… but still too far, further than he had ever been, perhaps.

_Goodbye_, I said in my mind, suddenly terrified of a million things, but most of all that my death would mean Jim, too, was doomed, unless, somehow, the rain stopped. But willing it to stop would be illogical, and hoping it would stop simply because I wanted it to was beyond ridiculous.

As I thought this a part of my logic distantly noted the fact that my _katra_ was torn and conflicted as always, even in the end I had found no peace; just adrenalin and desperation and sadness and love…

And then Jim saw me.

"_No_," He gasped, blocking an attack with the hilt of his strange weapon and then delivering a crushing blow to the man's skull. "No! Wait!"

The sound of my Captain's voice seemed to still the world.

"Stop!"

During the next minute I have a perfectly clear recollection of events, however I will admit to being unable to explain factually and rationally how a weak, ill, injured man did what he did.

Because somehow, impossibly, Jim was fighting and _winning_, transformed into a lethal whirlwind, blindingly fast, almost feral in his fury, and it could not be Human, the way he moved, for it was practically airborne, yet the evidence was undeniable.

By the time his attackers lay in an unconscious heap at his feet Jim had successfully caught the attention of mine. The blade dropped from my throat, scraping my clavicle and slicing a shallow cut down the tender skin of my neck, but the pain was irrelevant and could be shut out.

I immediately rose to help the Captain, for I knew that I would never allow any harm to come to Jim if it cost me my life. However, before I could break into a run, the droplets of fluid clinging to my eyelashes refracted the light in such a way that I was momentarily unable to see anything… anything but the blurred kaleidoscope of images the water created, in all of which Jim was the center.

And there was something that I should know, that I _already_ knew… but this was not the time. I shook my head to clear them, once, then flew to his side. Figuratively.

The woman was catalogued and assessed as the worst threat, so I performed a nerve-pinch on her first, leaving only two men to take down. One of them focused on the Captain and was making him retreat backwards, farther from me.

"Spock!" Jim bellowed, ducking and jumping out of reach from a knife. "You're not dead!"

And he had said I had a 'wonderful knack for stating the glaringly obvious'.

"Indeed, Captain!"

And then he laughed, but the sound was becoming fainter as he was forced to walk away, and I had a new adversary in the limited field of vision this deluge offered.

The man with the sword was standing before me, and I could see it's tip was dirty and rusted but also perhaps flecked with green blood where he had cut me, and a primal anger awoke deep within at the thought of that blood being red.

"You will never harm James Kirk," I informed him, and if my voice sounded fierce, angry or otherwise emotional in any way, it was obviously because my vocal chords were impaired, perhaps by the cold weather.

"I _will_ end your life, if I must."

He could not comprehend the meaning of my words, but the logic that so strictly governed my life seemed to momentarily ebb away as a basic, more instinctive need to protect the one who was mine burned it away.

For some reason when my enemy established visual contact he stilled, the weapon slack in his grip. He did not advance or make a threatening move, so I stepped forward, then heard a low, menacing growl.

… Then realised it was emitted by _me_.

_I _was snarling like an animal for the enemy to stay away from my Captain. And if I did not find this fascinatingly unexpected already, I would have when the man abruptly dropped his weapon and fled.

Standing precisely ten meters across the field was the Captain, an outline I would know anywhere. There was a shadow at his feet, but I could hear the low groan of pain coming from it and knew Jim had not killed today. And neither had I. This was much more than we could have ever hoped.

"Jim?"

He turned at the sound of my voice, and the mace fell from his hand and sank to the ground.

"_Spock,_" he choked, still panting, and smiled.

The polluted rain kept falling, feeling like oil against my skin, and thunder rolled once more, deafening, but these things were nothing, _nothing_ to that smile. The mud spattering our torn and unrecognisable uniforms was insignificant, the rivulets of multi-coloured swirls making his skin shine unhealthily were pathetically unimportant, because I was going to _have_ him or die, I was going to… to…

To take him?

The doubts churned and surged in my mind, keeping me stuck in place as the sounds, so many sounds… what was I thinking? _Was_ I thinking?

And suddenly there was one sound. Only one sound and the rest were meaningless to me, because it was his voice, and he was shouting over the others, having realised I was bleeding; "Spock! Are you okay? That cut looks bad! Are you hurt?" He started to walk toward me and I did the same, covering the distance with impatient steps in the traitorious mud.

"You're not dead," He repeated, but this time it was not a desperate joke, and we stood facing each other in solemn silence for one moment… until suddenly and completely Jim _grinned_ his usual, bright-eyed grin, somehow more himself than he had been in weeks.

"We did it!" He shouted over the rain, his face inches away…

"_Yes_."

And it was here, the time had come in this place, for me to accept something I should have realised long ago.

I let go of the shield; he was safe now, we were together, and felt a powerful wave of blissful relief wash over me, and then I knew, finally, and it was not shocking or unexpected, the walls were simply gone and _I knew_.

Of course.

Of course I loved Jim.

The obsession with his emotions, the attraction that went so far beyond anything I had ever felt before… the taste of his thoughts and the feel of his fingers sliding with mine when I kissed him—

And in a sudden shock of images I was bombarded with memories, memories I could now feel as keenly as though I were reliving them, as sharp as the pain from the cut in my neck.

Fifteen hugs and the way his skin was smooth and cool, he had _bitten_ me a mere ninety-seven minutes ago, sunk his teeth into my neck, and ten days ago he had slid his thumb between my lips, and his nails had raked my hand during a fight that was not a fight at all, and I was struck by an accompanying flash of arousal and pain, like lightning, and two weeks ago he had been under me when I licked his chest and he had said _again, please, oh my God_—

"Oh."

I took one step back but clutched his shoulders at arm's length so that he would not attempt to move closer. I was perfectly able to remain upright. I was not holding on to him for support for myself. I did not need support in order to prevent my knees from buckling. In no way was the gesture related to the fact that I might fall.

"Hey… are you sure you're okay?" Jim asked intently. I blinked as my vision blurred momentarily due to the toxic moisture dripping into my eyes; it stung and caused my lachrymal glands to secrete protective reflex tears.

I loved him.

The emotion was completely… distinct. It was like nothing else. It was like everything. I had heard so many people discuss it… Humans especially, aboard the ship and on Earth, all the time. I remembered my mother telling me of it, of days when enduring taunts and insults brought me home asking questions of love and she answered happily, explaining how many kinds of affection you could feel for someone, reminding me of how much she loved me and once, most illogically, crying when I informed her that by those standards my affection for her was equivalent to love also.

I remembered my father explaining why he had married a Human woman…. I remembered her illustrating her thoughts of her love for the Ambassador with beautiful images I had not fully understood at the time.

I understood now.

"Spock."

I wanted to kiss him again. For one moment the need practically overpowered me. Then I remembered who I was and what I was doing. So… this was what one experienced when in love. This boiling turmoil of contradicting impulses, like an unexpected dam being breached.

I would, of course, eventually learn to manage it and live with it, to accept it as a new part of me, for that was what it was after all, and get used to controlling it and myself, to stay Jim's friend without thinking, even once, of giving in to his taunts and admitting to something, anything.

"I am attracted to you."

… But not today, apparently.

"What?" Jim shouted in disbelief, and he was almost laughing. He looked so _alive_, covered in filth and bruises, somehow healthier than earlier today when he could barely stand and I had made him sleep for ten minutes on the floor of a turbolift.

"It appears our near-death experience has caused me to… admit it, after all."

This would be the absolute last lapse of verbal control, I assured myself. It was just that… when he looked at me in such a way it felt obvious that I would do anything, he asked of me. At least I had not admitted anything worse. Like my latest revelation.

Jim stared for a few moments, mouthing wordlessly.

Then he grabbed me and planted a wet, dirty kiss on my mouth.

"Fantastic!" He groaned in relief, and almost began laughing again, his voice shaking with mirth. "This is officially the weirdest and somehow bestest day ever! And no one died!"

"Your grammar leaves somewhat to be desired, Captain."

Jim whopped in joy. "Yes! My grammar! Please, oh please correct my grammar right now, Mr Spock!" He giggled (no matter how many times he would later deny the action was anything but a manly grunt). "You're attracted to me! That is so awesome! Okay…" Suddenly his happiness seemed to evaporate. "Oh, _shit_. This is just gonna make it harder now, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." He wiped his eyes of the disgusting liquid and smiled again, and I could become addicted to the way his face changed so beautifully that I wanted to drink it in. But the happiness vanished yet again, this time when Jim remembered the trickle of green down my throat. "Hey, let me take a look at that cut, you're bleeding pretty bad."

He gently touched my chin and lifted it up, eyes narrowed as he examined the wound. I was content to be compliant, for now.

"This could get infected."

He cupped his hands so the rain filled them, but it was not normal rain, and there was grime in the creases of his fingers, which made him soon give up.

"Man what is this crap? Feels like it's raining petrol!"

"The planet is highly radioactive, Captain. Fortunately, the exposure to these particular rays is in no way harmful to Humans, although I am somewhat unable to explain why since the fact that it stopped the transporter would suggest lethal levels—"

"Hey, we can talk science back on the ship." Jim clasped my shoulder firmly, another grin gracing his features. "We now have exactly five minutes to kill before I decide we're getting out of here before the storm ends, just in case nature decided to cut me a break. _So_, about this secret passionate attraction you've long been harbouring for me…"

"I will not speak of it. I have informed you of it's existence because I will, on occasion, entertain the notion that you can be somewhat aesthetically appealing to the eye, and that is all."

"Right." He was going to kiss me again. I knew it. But then he bit his lip and fisted his hands and stayed still. "Well it's nice to hear that particular… _feeling_, is mutual." He said instead with a smirk.

This conversation was not helping my romantic attachment to the Captain. He managed to look somehow both adorably endearing and irritatingly insolent, calling it a feeling to prompt a denial from me once more. Causing these contradiction emotions was clearly a special talent of Jim's.

"Captain—"

"I'm not saying I'm in love with you or anything!" He added loudly as thunder rolled once more, and the pain was like a shard of ice to my stomach, making the explosion of sound in my head incredibly easy to forget, so instant and completely paralysing this hurt was, it left me winded.

"But at least we can be honest with each other! That's cool! Right?"

Yes, for all his talk of attraction Jim's feelings for me went to further than that. _I had_ _already known this_. Many times, I had reminded myself of this. He could often be found flirting with females (which I believed he preferred as sexual partners, not that I had spent an inordinate amount of time pondering the issue). I had decided I would live with this, this desire to bond with him, to be forever with him, this aching need to stay by his side… I had decided I would accept this. And I could still be with him in the literal sense. I was still allowed to remain beside him. I would live with the… gift he had given me.

Because I could not bear to think of the emotion as a burden.

"Spock, are you absolutely, positively sure you're okay?" Jim said.

"The rags of cloth that resemble your shirt are no longer fit to be referenced as a unified garment of clothing, and there is some appeal in noting the toned muscle underneath it."

What was erroneous with my coherence at this present time?

Well, I had discovered a hitherto unknown but not for that less profound or momentous love for my Captain. Yes, perhaps… yes, that would probably account for the strange outbursts of honesty. Also, logically, it was quite natural for me to want to divert Jim's attention from my well-being as I was currently emotionally compromised, and in no fit state to deflect his burning questions.

Yes, that was definitely it.

Cerulean eyes had widened comically and he now seemed to almost… blush, his cheeks flooding a becoming rouge. How interesting. Would the blush deepen if I told him what I thought of the way the fabric of his pants clung to his body?

No. _That_ would not be logical.

"You really shouldn't say stuff like that to me," Jim said finally, shaking his head, a faint incredulous smile curving his lips. "It's… uh… it's…" He looked at me helplessly for a moment, then settled for: "It's just _weird_."

"I believe it was uncharacteristic of me, and I do not presume to justify why I spoke in such a way. I apologise, the experience shall not be repeated."

"No, I mean, it's amazing to hear… but… yeah, okay, please don't, don't do it again. You may have epic self-control skills and stuff but I'm very…" He raked my form in a slow, heated gaze. "… very… Human…" He licked his lips. "…right now."

A thrill began at the base of my spine, heating—

"Captain I believe this is a fitting time to attempt our escape."

"Right, yes, excellent notion Spock!" Jim clapped his hands and shook his head vigorously (and rather pointlessly, as the rain had not ceased), reminiscent of a canine animal when wet.

"Has your communicator survived this climate?"

"Lemme check …" A mess of small circuits was all that remained. "Yeah, no. And this weird atmosphere isn't exactly easy to transmit from, especially since _someone_—" He glared up at the sky. "-started upending buckets of oil on top of us!"

As if in response to his words, there was a roar from the clouds and I covered my hears briefly to avoid negative auditory repercussions.

Jim caught my gesture. "Is it very loud for you, Spock?"

"It is slightly above the average decibels a Vulcan can tolerate, yes."

This made him frown. "Slightly is not very specific. How much above your tolerance levels?"

"A measurable amount."

"Bullshit."

He firmly planted himself in front of me, as close as he had been before, and placed his hands over mine, the pads of his fingers touching the tips of my ears, and the memories clamoured for attention in my mind, and the emotions, and the _want_-

"How much _exactly_, Spock?"

"… I estimate approximately fifty-one decibels."

Jim swore. "We need to get you out of here now." But he was standing so close… and all I could think was that I wanted him closer… the feel of his palms brushing my hands, so rough and so good-

"We have no plan of escape yet, and we cannot beam out unless the rain stops, Captain," I murmured. Our foreheads were almost touching.

"Yeah, I know." One drop landed right on his lip. When he sighed it fell out of his mouth, trailing down his chin and jaw. The level of illogical it would be to envy an inanimate viscous substance does not bear mentioning.

"… The thunder has stopped, however."

Jim exhaled shakily. "… Uh, yeah, sorry." And pulled his hands away from either side of my head, not without trailing his fingers along the back of my palms. I shivered.

"Thunder…" Suddenly his entire body tensed and he when he looked up at me his eyes shone with an idea. "Wait. Thunder!"

A certain amount of chagrin may or may not have made me wary of what this might be.

"Thunder, _but no lightning_," He said triumphantly. "There's never lightning!"

I considered this. Lightning was caused by electric discharge during Terran storms, yet this storm had no such discharges. Inexplicable. There had to be lightning if there was thunder, the excess energy must be liberated in some form.

"No lightning that we can see," I specified.

"Right." He was thinking furiously now, making intuitive leaps logic did not allow, and so I waited. "Exactly, that's exactly it. No lightning… that we can see. There has to be… there's thunder, but no lightning…" He began to walk toward the very precise center of the clearing and I followed. "Why? That makes no sense, unless the energy is… the energy has to be channelled… yes."

Jim spun around, soaked hair plastered to his face and a feverish, determined expression. "The excess energy is what's causing the ionic interference. It _has_ to be ionic interference that's scrambling transporter and scanning capabilities. The lightning we can't see… instead of being discharged in the form of heat and static it's absorbed by this… oily thing, whatever the hell it is, then taken into the earth, which in turn will charge the liquid that evaporates…"

"And when it rains the cycle begins again." I completed. "But that is not possible. If this solution could conduct electricity we would most certainly have been burned by it."

"It's not water at all. Maybe it's not even any element we know of. That doesn't matter now. Radiation levels can't be high enough to stop the transporter because if they were we'd be dead. So it's _not_ the radiation that's interfering with the transporter's readings, it's the electricity, discharged directly through the rain. The rain itself! That means we can still be beamed out if they can only locate us!"

"There are no means of communication possible from this distance—"

"I figured that one out while you were busy poking holes in my explanation." But there was no anger or annoyance in his tone, instead the Captain appeared please with my balancing of his facts. "We _can_ get a signal to the ship."

"There are no means of communication possible—"

He looked up, squinting, at the sky. "Not by hailing them. By planting a clue."

I instantly comprehended his meaning.

"In the scans."

"Exactly. They'll be running constant surface scans to check for when the ionic interference stops, and we can beam out."

"We can create an irregularity—"

"A blip, a space where there's no rain… if they look for what's not there instead of what _is_. And empty bubble. If Chekov can help Scotty transport that entire mass of air…"

"It must be small, Captain, small enough for the transporter pad, however large enough that the scrambled data is significant. Also within the area of this field, which is where we are still presumed to be and therefore where the scanners will be attempting to find us, as well as larger than our individual body masses, of course, since we would have already been located otherwise."

"Okay, so now all we need is a dry space that's big enough to fit both of us. But that's easy, I mean we could do this with a large square of fabric to isolate a small space, a cubic meter of air without rain and—"

"Not necessary." It was even simpler than that. I was somewhat unsettled that this obvious solution had not occurred to me before. "Our combined mass would theoretically be sufficient. Separate, we are two entities which the malfunctioning scanner overlooks. But if Ensign Chekov has succeeded in narrowing the parameters enough…"

Jim clapped. "Yes! Oh God _yes_ you brilliant, brilliant genius!"

Our bodies, together, in the middle of the plain, might occupy enough space without rain that could be identified as an anomaly. A patch of non-ionic non-scrambling activity, that the transporter could lock onto.

It was an incredible risk, and if we were not successful there would be more tribes of native inhabitants threatened by our intrusive presence here, not to mention how the liquid would confuse life-readings and there was no guarantee the crew would risk beaming aboard an alien life-form, also not a single drop of rain must be disassembled for it could interfere with the molecular-reconstruction back at the pad-

Jim knew of my misgivings the moment I thought of them. "It's the only way, Spock," he spoke in the commanding tone of the Captain.

"It would be logical to wait for the storm to pass."

"There's no time for that, the leader of the clan escaped and he'll be back with more warriors, and it might take the crew a few minutes to decide what to do…"

"Nevertheless, you—"

"Spock," Jim interrupted. "It's a risk we have to take. Come on."

And he offered his hand.

He was asking me to forego logic again, but this time the stakes were not an emotional response or a friendly hug. This time it was his life. Jim's life. How could I do this?

"The bigger risk is staying," Jim said, more insistently. "We've already spent too long talking about this, trust me."

"I… it is not… there are too many variables… the odds of success are less than-"

"Trust me." He repeated, the force of his eyes beseeching. "Please. It'll work."

I took a deep breath… and clasped his hand.

It was like stealing, this forbidden touch, but I told myself I would do it just for this one last time; if I was not permitted to smile or shout or laugh or love… if I was not even permitted to love him, I could take this one kiss.

And the hug, when he tugged my arm and I allowed him to pull me into his body, and we clutched each other as tightly as possible. I pressed him flush against my chest and felt him try to do the same, even if his Human strength was not sufficient, but that was all right; I could do this for both of us, for there could be not a breath of air in between, and I could feel my hands (one around his shoulders, one splayed over his lower back) trembling with the effort and the exhaustion of an emotional episode such as this one had been, and knew Jim must feel the shivers but he did not say anything, just held stronger.

It took twelve cold, terrible, tense minutes before Jim cried out in relief and I exhaled against his neck as we both disappeared, and the last thing I felt before the rain stopped was his lips against my cheek and a soft; "I win."

During those moments I had the chance to contemplate regret and hope, but also to find a strange and new kind of inner peace, of fullness, that came from the man in my arms. For it resonated within me, in harmony with who I was, the love I had for Jim…

It fit.

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**So much l****uuuurve in this chapter! *happiness* From Jim to Spock, from Spock to Jim (FINALLY, geesh), from the world to Chris Pine's eyes, from the world to Zachary Quinto's jaw, from fangirls to slash, from Leonard Nimoy to The Shat and vice-versa, from me to reviews…**

**What? :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**Every Hug**

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**The Seventeenth Time**

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_He had fallen._

"Spock?"

_My hands were slick with his blood, and he had fallen__…_

"Spock?"

_I kept looking down at them every 0.796 seconds but there was no notable change to the sight; they remained dripping and horribly wet. _

_I could not catch him. He had fallen down, down, down__…_

_People around us were shouting and Dr McCoy__'__s increasingly frantic and desperate voice rose above them all, issuing loud instructions to the moving white shapes that ran around the bright white room. Blurred vision was a symptom of Human shock. I had believed, until today, that I was unable to succumb to such an illogical emotional response._

_He had been alone in the end, when the fall ended I had not been there__…_

_Paralysed by the grief rending me apart, I stood in the middle of the room, unable to see anything except Jim__'__s sharp outline. No one spoke to me, although I felt eyes meet my own and quickly look away. Perhaps, despite the fact that I had never been so empty of expression, my emotions were so powerful they had somehow become a visible, tangible thing._

"Spock."

_Without the complicated brightness of his blue eyes the world had become shadows and blood and pain and my hands, glistening._

"Spock!"

_With feeble strength I willed the agony in my head away, knowing from the start that such an effort was useless, and indeed it did not dissipate or even decrease. Nor would the crushing weight in my chest lessen in the slightest, or my twisting stomach, or my straining heart beating loudly at my side, or my eyes, throat, lungs, hands__…__ my hands, slippery with Jim__'__s bright red life as I stood there and screamed inside, screamed screamed screamed-_

"Wake up!"

He snapped the order in such a firm, commanding tone that even in unconsciousness my body was fast to obey.

"Jim."

I straightened; I was in my quarters. The Captain stood looking down at me, his face thrown into shadow by the faint lighting of the room. With some effort I composed myself and severed the thoughts of death, and the vivid memories of emotion. It required a momentary pause from voicing my thoughts, and Jim waited quietly for me to speak first.

Quite possibly the dream had been a consequence of exposure to the chemicals of yesterday's planet and its unusual rain, since it was rare for me to experience them. I regretted not being able to secure a sample of the liquid for scientific study and analysis; no doubt the results would constitute fascinating research. Of course, our lives had depended precisely on that not happening, and indeed Jim and I had materialised perfectly dry onto one pad.

"What is your purpose in being here at this time?" I asked once the feelings were successfully classified, put away, and subsequently carefully forgotten. It was not excessively difficult to find my control and balance once more, as the sight of the Captain confirmed the falsehood of my visions, and a quick glance at my hands further assured me that there was no longer a necessity for concern. Jim was alive; obviously my subconscious had created the scenario for reasons best learnt in the quiet calm of meditation.

Jim did not reply, instead he sat by the side of my bed and looked at me intently.

"Captain, please state your—"

But I did not finish my inquiry because suddenly he reached out a hand toward my face… and momentarily I forgot he was not Vulcan and I thought 'Yes, I need your thoughts _now__.'_

"I've never… I've never seen you…"

He dropped his outstretched hand and mouthed silently for a few moments, apparently at a loss to find the suitable verb.

I forced myself to raise an eyebrow and pretend I had not understood, perhaps hoping that horrible look on his face might disappear if I made him laugh. If I could still make him laugh.

Because if Jim was alive to laugh then that… was significant to me.

"That is incorrect, Captain. You have seen me at least on one occasion every day since—"

"…_Cry_," he interrupted, and his voice broke on the word.

"I see. Yes, that is correct, you have never seen me…" Once again I did not complete my speech. I was not crying. I had only been unable to control my tear ducts twice in my entire life; both times I had been an untrained child. I was _not_ crying.

So then why was he looking at me as though I was?

"I am not crying, Jim."

"I know. I know that now."

He took a deep breath, then hung his head wearily.

"Okay, can I do something completely inappropriate that will probably make you very uncomfortable?"

For point two seconds a ray of certainty made me believe he was going to ask to touch my face; my cheeks, eyelids, warm skin I would offer under his fingers… so that he could be sure there were no tears there, as if seeing was not enough, as if he would need to feel it to believe.

Then the strange flash was gone and I rationally deduced it had been speculation on my part.

"I assume you are not referring to an embrace, as you took that liberty long ago."

This drew the lightest quirking of his full lips.

"Fine, can I do something completely inappropriate that will probably make you very uncomfortable _again_?"

The sense of calm became more real as a coy smile lit his eyes, watching at me from under his lashes.

"Perhaps," I replied wearily. I _was_ in my bed. In my quarters. And Jim existed. Also on the bed. Occupying the same space. At the same time. All these factors were not conductive to a harmless conversation.

But suddenly he lost his playful expression and doubts clouded his gaze.

"Nah, on second thought, it's fine. Forget it." I no longer bothered to point out that that request was not possible. "I, that is… I really should leave. Yeah. I'll go. I'm sorry I bothered you, I didn't mean to."

"Your presence was acceptable, Jim," I informed him. He almost smiled again, then stood to leave.

"Hey, but before I go I wanted to ask you…" He turned back to me and narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously. "Were you having a nightmare?"

I pondered on how long he had been standing inside my quarters before I woke as I replied. "What brought you to formulate that question?"

He blinked. "Is it weird that I don't know? At least, I'm not sure I do."

Perhaps I had lost my control over facial muscles during unconsciousness. But this was not a possibility with high odds; such a mistake was much more indicative of a time of turmoil analogous to Pon Farr, or even the chaos that my _katra_ had become prior to my realisation. Now that I had accepted this… attachment to the Captain was now a part of who I was, and needed to be taken into account (for it could never be vanquished), I no longer suffered from emotional outbursts as before; episodes such as those were dangerous and unhealthy for a true Vulcan.

"Clarify."

"You looked… perfect—" he cleared his throat,"—ly blank. You expect someone who's having a nightmare to be thrashing on the bed or… at least to look worried, but you looked… like you, except with your eyes closed so I couldn't really… so I don't know. I have no idea how I knew you were screaming."

"Screaming?" I asked quietly. He was more perceptive than I had expected. I recalled his unusually elevated Psi-ratings, noting them as a possible cause for this most unnerving insight into my mind.

"Sorry. No. Of course not, ignore I said that, please." He took a step back, toward the door. I reminded myself that stretching out a hand and desperately asking him to remain would be an illogical action.

"If you did not wish to leave I would not be adverse to continuing this conversation in order to clarify some points," I informed him.

"So you're asking me to stay." He gave me a warm smile, and stepped forward once more. "Okay. How about you tell me what the dream was about? That might make you feel better, if you want to… if it's not too personal or anything. Hey, you weren't dreaming about a giant killer pizza, by any chance?"

He grinned in encouragement but I recalled every image from the dream with perfect clarity; if I wanted to I could see every minute detail. That was a consequence of photographic memory, and not to be despised. Hating my ability to remember what I had seen there… that was not rational. And once I knew this I could force myself to not feel it anymore.

"Spock, I'm sorry." Something must have shown in my face. I must strive for less animation, if Jim could read me so easily. "Did you… do you want to call your father? Is it to do with Vulcan?"

"No, that is not necessary."

"Okay."

He waited expectantly. I surmised he still wished to hear about my 'nightmare' (the term being used to add negative connotations, and therefore entirely accurate).

"I dreamt about your death."

Shock is the only word able to appropriately describe Jim's expression at my words.

"_What_?"

At first he seemed about to shake his head, entirely disbelieving. But instead he looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment, breathing laboured, and said again more softly; "What?"

"I said that my dream was about your death."

"Yeah, I heard _that_."

"Then I do not understand your question."

"I… nothing." He ran a hand through his hair and blew out the air in his lungs. "How… how did I die?"

A sharp, unexpected pain seemed to flood my bloodstream, and it was all the more strange because I could make myself unfeeling to physical injury, yet this was much harder to shut out.

"I do not wish to discuss it further, Jim."

"Oh." My tone had made him stumble back until he was almost within range of the door sensor, despite the fact that I had attempted to module it and lower its intensity. "Sorry. I'll go." He turned away, tight shirt making the tension on his muscles easy to appreciate.

"Jim."

I threw back the covers and slid off the bed, momentarily noted that I would have benefited from this situation had I chosen to wear some garments under my sleeping robe (the loose knot had become comparatively looser since I had retired to rest), then stood.

"Yeah?"

"What reason prompted you to be in my quarters when I woke?"

Still facing away from me, he spoke very, very softly.

"I had a bad dream too."

His fist was clenched and I took another step forward, struck by the desire to soothe that tension and caress his fingers. Not that I would, obviously, but the thought persisted nevertheless.

"Did you override the lock because you wished to discuss it with me? Would that be helpful to you at this time?"

He shook his head, then somewhat undermined the gesture by speaking in a whisper.

"It was the weirdest thing… I was in this dark place… it was dark but it was so beautiful, Spock…" There was a saturated longing in his voice that necessitated that I empty myself of negative emotion. "Somehow, I can't explain why but it was _comforting_. And then… it changed. And there was this pain, this sort of blinding pain inside my head and I didn't understand why or how or even… and it just kept increasing until I thought I'd die, and I couldn't _help_."

His back was still to me, shoulders hunched and tendons in his neck taut.

"I think staying on the planet's surface that long wasn't exactly the healthiest thing ever," he muttered after I did not offer a comment.

"Perhaps not," I concurred.

"So, um… do you think it would be okay if I hugged you now?"

To a Human it would not appear as hesitation, for I barely took a second to draw my conclusions that this was, once again, about the Captain, and necessary for him, and therefore non-optional.

"Yes."

He whirled around in a deceptively fast move and, reminiscent of the first time, fell against me and crashed our chests together, immediately entwining his fingers in my hair, leaning completely against my frame for support.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Spock," he said. "I need you. Not for me, I just… I need you to be alive. So, uh, thanks, for that." A low breathy chuckle and his grip tightened, the satinous black fabric of my robe stretched to breaking-point. "Isn't this just lovely and awkward?" he added laughingly, and if he was already getting better then this was a worthy effort on my part.

The faint cut on my neck throbbed slightly at the strain on the skin, but physical pain, as always, became insignificant next to the focus required to maintain a… _suitable_ position in relation to the Captain's frame. His entire weight was thrown over me since his feet were on tiptoe and barely supporting him, and while Jim's Human body was not heavy, feeling his skin over so much of mine forced my attention to such remarkable scientific facts as the ratio of tangents in a parabolic trajectory…

After another fourteen seconds of this he pulled away by putting a hand on my hip and sliding his other arm from around my neck, down to my waist. Then suddenly he sprang backward and looked at me properly; his eyes bulged and he covered them by slapping his palm over his face.

"Jesus, Spock! Have a little mercy, will you?"

Another illogical leap which left me far behind, and uncomprehending. "Is something troubling you, Captain?" I questioned cautiously.

A little hysterical sound escaped his lips, and then he peeked at me from between his fingers and laughed.

"Oh, nothing." He lowered his hand and fixated his gaze very pointedly on the ceiling. "Nothing. It's probably funny at this point. I think I'm gonna decide it's funny and not… the other thing. The other thing is bad. Bad other thing, this is _hilarious_… Ugh, who am I _kidding_...?"

"Captain?"

Sometimes Jim's train of thought became so utterly impossible that I could only watch and wait for him to clarify, and often he did not.

"Spock, I have to be on the bridge in half an hour, so this is really not a good thing."

Exasperation was not logical at this time. Nor was frustration.

And _yet_.

"May I ask that you specify what you are referring to, please?"

"No you may _not,_" Jim said vehemently. "But listen, I'll just be glad to know you're okay now and also to ask you to tighten that belt a little bit, thank you very much."

I obeyed his request as my thoughts travelled in various directions. Facts. His shift began in thirty minutes, however, mine did not resume for another three hours. The Captain was 'glad' to know I was not in a negative state of mind. Jim was also agitated for reasons possibly related sight of my exposed flesh, which he had already indicated had not been displeasing to him in the past. In fact, it had had the entirely opposite effect, which was why it would be perfectly logical to conclude a similar circumstance prompted a proportional reaction—

"And before you can get all condescending and 'Ooh I'm Vulcan and I'm awesome because I'm so repressed and my self-control skills are legendary', I will have you know that since yesterday I have the knowledge and the ability to get back at you, so unless you want me to strip _right now_ _at this second_ you'll refrain from looking so annoyingly smug."

"A poor threat, Captain, surely."

"What? It's… you're not afraid that I'll strip?" he asked hopefully. I felt a familiar ache in my cheek from preventing an emotional display of mirth.

"Fear would be most illogical in that instance."

"You sure about that?" His innocent, joking tone subtly changed and became more daring.

"I am certain of it," I replied, and while it could not be said with perfect accuracy that I had just lied, I had not come quite close to doing so in an extended period of time.

Jim's lips curved becomingly into a smile. "That's good to know. Well, I'm off to take a shower—"

"But you are already dressed for your Gamma shift." I did not add that when he had embraced me I had detected the distinct aroma of freshly scrubbed skin and soap, indicating he had showered recently. Also his hair had been somewhat marginally damp when I had unintentionally touched it.

"Yeah, well." He waved a hand vaguely in the air and let his gaze travel over me for just a moment (certainly enough time that I was forced to clamp down certain… feelings immediately). "I have this thing that I need to take care of, you know. Work."

"… Work, Captain?"

"Yup. Work in the shower... hey, that should totally be something people should be able to do!" He seemed to be genuinely considering it, eyes alight with the idea. "I mean, for real, wouldn't that be so cool? Why has no one thought of it before?"

"I do not know, Captain."

Jim grinned again. "Hey, come to think of it, my quarters are like super close to yours! That's… something!"

I had never thought of Jim as cruel before.

"They are approximately 5.2389 metres from mine, that is a fact, sir."

"Oh it's _sir_ again, is it?" He winked. "Anyway, yes, I think I'll go have my lovely hot shower with steam and everything—"

"You may exit the room at this time."

"Aw, you're not mad or anything, are you Spock? I mean, it's only fair, isn't it?"

What was he referencing _now_? For what reason was this strange kind of torture 'fair'?

"I… I do not know…"

"Sorry, sorry again, I'll be taking off. You should sleep some more, I think. Sweet dreams!"

And without another note of clarification, without even another confusing comment, especially without letting me catch his hand and penetrate his mind, past skins and blood and tissue to feast on the perplexing thoughts in there…

He left.

He simply departed.

He abandoned the room with me in it, alone, and went back to his own, to take a sonic shower and, according to his previous comments, to do 'work', which was confusing because those suggestive eyebrows had indicated another activity one would associate with Humans in conjunction with nudity—

I would definitely not be sleeping anymore. Not today, not tomorrow… and if it were anatomically possible I did not think I would ever sleep again.

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**Finals are **_**over**_** baby! :D**

**Believe me when I say this pause was just as bad for me, because wanting to write and not being able to is like, the worst thing ever *shudder* BUT HAPPINESS! SUMMER! CHRIS PINE'S BUTT-I MEAN EYES! REJOICE! LIFE IS GOOD! **

**And**** also, just my two cents here... on my own story… *facepalm* but I think it's totally fair of Jim to want to get back at Spock for the 'loose robe' moment, can you imagine how hard it would be not to jump on that? Spock in a silky black... UNF (actually I had a lot of trouble deciding what he wore to sleep… I dunno if pajamas are logical but having him naked would just have ended the story right there *grin*)**

**Anyway, ****feels awesome to be back! LOVE AND SLASH FOR ALL!**


	18. Chapter 18

**BLOW MY MIND. You all have done it.**

**This fic now has now passed the great big 1000. WHAT? I LOVE YOU.**

**Also before anyone asks, no, the chapter title is not a mistake, and you'll see why soon enough ;)**

**Every Hug**

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**The Nineteenth Time**

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"We said we wouldn't…" he started to say, but then stopped. I stayed still and waited for him to make his choice, knowing I would make him decide whether this was to become the one exception to our new rules.

There was a small sound, and I had heard it before, low and wanton but also aching with frustration, exasperation at the back of his throat, like pain or perhaps like giving in, and it happened the second before Jim slammed his palm against the controls and stopped the lift.

"I know we said… I know what we said."

"I, too, am aware of the previous terms of our new agreement."

"But I can't take it anymore. You've been so distant since… you'd never been like this with me before. And it's killing me. I can't stand it. I can't."

I said nothing, and he advanced until my back touched the panel (no visible limp in his walk, of course, just the merest favouring of his right leg), then flattened his palms against the wall at either side of my face.

"_React,_" he ordered. I did not. I could not. "Do something. Please, just… don't look at me like that. I know it's your way of… but it's been days. Please, _do_ something."

His eyes travelled to my lips and away, and he dropped his hands.

"_Spock_."

My name in one breath and he leaned forward, sliding his arms under mine and around my back, chin on my shoulder and a deep, lonely sigh.

"I wish… wishing is _stupid_."

No response was required to that statement; I did not provide one.

One hand had slowly climbed up to the back of my neck, the other gently settled on the small of my back, pressing himself against me. I had not moved.

"Spock, please say something. Please." This time there was no fury to fuel his words.

Perhaps I should have said that it would have benefited us not to have met inside the turbolift at this time. I considered simply not speaking, to further establish the distances between us. Codes of conduct and lines of decorum had become far too blurred and imprecise, the one thing I could say I disliked; distorted, unreliable illogic.

"Captain, you are aware that this cannot happen again. It is detrimental to our professional relationship and it has no positive effect on our personal interactions, furthermore—"

"Yes, yes. It's just that, the last time… I didn't know it was the last time. So, that's just cruel. I mean, if I didn't know then how was I supposed to remember… I'm not like you, I forget things, and this… I don't want to forget the last time I can do this. I want to be _aware_… I want to savour it."

Emotional, irrational Humans. And yet I had not denied him this, either. It was possible that that made me emotional or irrational also.

"… To keep it. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" He asked, breath blowing against my ear, the wet sounds of his mouth and the deep, low ring of his vocal chords coming together to modulate words, so loud to my senses.

_No_. I did not understand.

"Okay. Look, that's okay, too, you don't have to… be careful around me. And I know that sometimes you think I'm being too impulsive or emotional or whatever, but I get that. I mean, I get why you can't always see where I'm coming from, just as some times I have no idea what you're thinking. Like now."

Once again he guessed my thoughts.

"It's not a guess, Spock, I was just born this awesome."

His light-hearted comment was spoken as though in… answer.

As though Jim could answer my thoughts.

As though he had heard me—

An instant later I had formed a mental barrier between us and Jim kept speaking as though nothing had happened, but I was only giving him the minimum attention necessary to appear unmoved.

Jim had heard my thoughts, this was established fact which was forcing me to come to an astonishing conclusion. It had gone beyond a romantic attachment. Beyond the new, strange feelings I had never experienced before. Even beyond the desire to initiate a meld with him.

I had begun to bond us.

Without Jim's consent. Without him even knowing of this possibility, _without even being aware of its happening myself_.

"… and I can accept that…"

It explained many things, of course; Jim's mysterious ailment since Bryn V when I had completely blocked all emotion, which would have hurt him horribly… his so-called 'miraculous' recovery the day I finally let the feelings in… also his need to touch me. All those movements, gestures seeking out my presence… but it had not been my presence he had sought, instead he had unconsciously, blindly reached out for a fledgling beginning, a soft, sweet song, a delicate thread linking our minds, the finest, most beautiful chain. Tying him to me.

"… sometimes you let me do things you don't understand. I know that too…"

But while there would be time later for compartmentalisation, meditation and the suppression of sadness, presently I was able to detect a problem.

Jim had caught glimpses of my thoughts because, among Humans with their low Psi-ratings, I did not necessitate to create any barriers to guard them; containing them sufficed, and in its absence this discipline had made me somewhat… lax. And that mistake, when combined with this development, had amplified the connection between myself and the Captain, made me more open to his mind, more easily 'read', while remaining unaware of it.

However, the unresolved question of why I had not known of the fledgling bond's existence was presented.

Despite the fact that it was still incredibly weak, a telepathic being such as me would have felt Jim's emotions instantly, even if it had occurred during a time of deep and unsettling emotional turmoil. It did not matter that I was unused to such stirrings, I should have sensed this bond the moment it began. I had attributed many things to my friendship with the Captain out of ignorance, never having known what it was to have a friend before; therefore, without a clear frame of reference, I had allowed my regard for him to go unnoticed too long. Yet there was another element at play here. An unidentified variable that would change my incorrect hypothesis.

Jim kept speaking softly to my ear and I attempted to do something I had not done since Bryn; I initiated a gentle, subtle probe.

And encountered a shield.

How? How was this possible? It was clearly meant to keep me out of his mind, and while I could have broken it with little effort (Jim's mental powers were no match for mine, he was Human, after all), I knew what it signified. A small pang of hurt was instantly ignored as I focused on the matter at hand.

I had underestimated the Captain, as usual.

Somehow, instinctively, Jim must have protected himself, protected his emotions, by erecting an automatic, self-preservating defense mechanism.

"Jim…"

What I did next was a… Human thing. I did not inform him of what had happened. I decided I would if it kept growing, or became dangerously powerful. But instead, now that I was aware of the bond, steps could be taken to halt it's progress, which meant Jim did not need to know what I had inadvertently done.

Embarrassment was not… logical. Shame, rejection, these things were never spoken of among Vulcans, perhaps because their existence so lived in our minds, so governed our actions. Just as there was no logic in mourning the loss of something I had never expected to have, and so I did not waste time in negative emotional responses to severing such a precious link to Jim. This had been my own doing, I was to blame for letting it happen, and he deserved a chance to a normal life, a healthy relationship with someone of his choosing.

"What?"

"Has this exchange been satisfactory? May we terminate it?"

He stiffened and drew back fractionally by removing his arms from around me and once again resting his palms flat against the wall I leaned on, at either side of my head.

"Something's wrong with you, isn't it?" he asked, narrowed eyes and head tilted to the side, concern in his voice. "Something really bad's happened."

"… While not entirely accurate, your inquiry is not without some merit."

"Spock… I know it must be terribly difficult for you. Being attracted to me, I mean."

For an instant I believed he was turning this into a joke, and felt disappointment, but then his expression disproved that notion.

"I'm serious." His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his gaze had dropped demurely, a rare adjective to be used in conjunction with the Captain. "I mean… I can't imagine what it's like to realise you feel that way, for someone who prides himself on being above this stuff. I'm sorry if I've been a bit of an ass about it before… you have no idea how much I adore seeing you fight to keep a straight face, even if it's anger or annoyance, I just love… but that's not the point. I swear I'll stop. What I mean is, I get how it must be confusing, and especially since there's no, um, emotional tie between us, in that sense, to back it up. But please… please don't think that makes you any less… amazing. Brilliant. Smart. Or Vulcan, even. Don't think that having this one little weakness makes you worse, somehow. It just makes you… a little bit…"

"… Human, is the word you fear to speak."

He scoffed. "I wouldn't say _fear_ exactly…"

"Jim. My mother… it would be illogical not to acknowledge my heritage."

At these words he looked up, full of compassion, and smiled slightly.

"Furthermore, I believe you have complimented me, by Human standards."

"Yeah, I guess that slipped out. Oh well, you'd need to be pretty awesome to be my friend." He sounded… relieved.

"I thank you, Jim."

"No problem. I know that lately… we've had some pretty intense shit going on and it's mostly been to do with, well, us, and sentiment and gushy stuff you hate—"

"Hate—"

"Okay okay, 'you're adverse to'. I'm trying to give an uplifting and bromantic speech here Spock, help me out. So I was saying, I'm here for you, that's what friends are for, see? And…"

I had not interjected to reprimand his associating me with feeling hate. I had wished to correct his assumption that I disliked the emotional progress happening between us, when the reality was that I… did not dislike it at all.

"… you'll get through this, Spock. I honestly believe everything's gonna be okay."

"Your belief does not augment the likelihood of the situation resolving itself. However, it does provide… comfort."

"Really?" Jim looked genuinely surprised. "I just comforted you? Without sex?"

"Obviously, we engaged in no intercourse at this time, or else you would have been aware of it, Captain."

A bark-like laugh and gleaming white teeth as he shook his head, then took a step back and dropped his arms. "Right. Well, that's awesome." He mimicked a small fist-pump in the air and out of the vast discord in my _katra_ there emerged hope, and an infinite fondness. "See? I'm getting better at this friend stuff too. We'll be fine. And I won't hug you again. I promise."

I could see that he would keep it this time, too.

"Very well, Captain. We must return to duty."

"'Course." He spoke into the comm, "Bridge."

The lift resumed and Jim gave my arm a quick squeeze.

"It's good to have you back, Spock. I like you when you're… you."

Metaphors again. "I did not leave, Captain."

"Yeah, you did."

I knew the bond must end, if Jim was to be saved. Yet at that moment, when he flashed me a rueful smile and stepped out to the bridge, the possibility of keeping it, like the darkest, the deadliest secret…

Was not an option to contemplate.

That day I pondered upon the meaning of 'friend' while I worked, and a small wish at the back of my mind cried helplessly that I should attach two more words to it, but it was a voice so weak, so useless, that it was successfully pushed back…

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**Spock is STUPID.**

**That is all I have to say for myself, or him XD **

**I'm already working on the next chapter, which is actually the previous chapter, which will clarify what's going on here and also explain what happened exactly to make them agree to no more hugs evar (yeah, that went well)! *gasp***

**Have I mentioned I love you all, lately? Because I do. A TON.**


	19. Chapter 19

**So the last chapter had this line: ****"****I**** pondered upon the meaning of 'friend' while I worked, and a small wish at the back of my mind cried helplessly that I should attach two more words to it.****" As a reference to t'hy'la.**

**TheRightDoctor said in a hilarious review: ****"****Those two words being ****'****with benefits****'****, yes?****"**

**Cracked me up! Thought I****'****d share the love XD**

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**The Eighteenth Time**

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Searching eyes among the wreckage, _where was he, where was the Captain_, I had determined where every single other crewmember was but not him, _why not him_, smoke impaired my vision and had caused wracking coughs to the Humans on board the small shuttle, but I knew they were all being taken to safety by the emergency personnel. What I did not know was the location of the Captain.

The dense canopy of trees overhead had softened the impact of the craft against the earth by adding friction, therefore slowing its velocity; there was a chance of him being alive.

"Commander Spock, please move back!"

The crash had likely propelled him out of the ship, I concluded, and bypassed the security barrier to examine the site more thoroughly, but encountered the head of the paramedic unit.

"You can't go in there."

"Given my Vulcan physiology and keener hearing I am an asset to your team, not a hindrance, now step aside and allow me to assist in your search."

"But sir, it's against protocol to let non-essential—"

Wasting time in pointless discussions was not a priority when the Captain's life was at stake, and I moved to leave and ignore the man, but he leapt in front of me again, putting a hand on my shoulder which I removed instantly.

"Mr Spock, please! We'll find him—"

"You will step aside _now_."

3.294 seconds was all it took for him to shake his head at me and leave, already shouting orders to a blue-clad medical team.

A large area had been cleared as a precaution; the engines of the old shuttle, if ignited, would cause a damaging explosion and increase the likelihood of severe harm coming to any living being within a 0.9187 kilometer radius, as well as the certain death of anyone within the actual disaster zone.

"Hey! Over here!"

I turned at the sound of a strong female voice and, through the trees, saw an Argelian woman with long auburn hair waving wildly and gesturing for me to approach her. It was probable no one but me could perceive her in this situation, since she was at the very edge of the secured perimeter and alone.

"Have you found Captain Kirk?" I inquired when she was within hearing-range. The name-tag on her red vest read 'Alba'; she was a security officer.

Her response was to point upward at the dense canopy of trees, through which some light had filtered down and now illuminated a dark figure with a halo of golden hair.

"I think that's him," she said, head tilted back. "I'm almost sure."

"Yes, I concur."

At my tone of voice she turned to me and put a tentative, delicate hand on my arm. "Are you okay?"

I was attempting to devise a way to ascend upward. "Please refrain from physical contact and call the necessary officers to assist in the recovery of Captain Kirk."

The touch vanished and she nodded firmly. "Yes sir, sorry sir."

She crashed away through the undergrowth to get back to the wreckage, shouting to be heard, presumably where more Humans could be found.

"We've got someone here! Hey! We've got someone!"

"Alba! Have you found the Captain?" A male nurse met her halfway and while I was calculating tensile strength and flexor muscles; the thick trunk of this particular specimen would not be negatively impacted by adding my weight.

"I think so. Look up!"

I heard a gasp.

"How the hell are we gonna get him down from there? No beaming tech works in this goddamn planet!"

The distance between the branches was minimal and a network of vines would enable me to climb, now all that remained was checking the equilibrium in correlation with slight gravity decrease.

A little way away the sounds of crashing footsteps and louder voices told me that an increasingly large group was converging around the young woman.

"Hey, Michael! Come over here, they found Captain Kirk! Laura, alert Doctor Sanj and get the Chief to come over once they've secured the engines, yeah?"

"Done!"

"Where's Sonya? She can help with- _what the fuck_?"

Possibly a reaction to my starting ascent.

"What is he _doing_?"

"Commander-!"

Not wishing to concern myself with further distractions, I blocked out their voices as I climbed higher.

It was Jim; I obtained visual confirmation when his dress shirt caught the bright sunlight streaming between green leaves.

Progress was made at an acceptable speed as my limbs enabled easy access to far branches, and the distance separating the Captain from myself was reduced.

"Hello?"

His voice was rasping and dry but firm, and it nearly brought me to a halt, still 4.563 meters below his body.

"Hello, is someone here?"

He was moving, attempting to sit up while precariously balanced between two branches, and depending on how he moved he might injure himself.

"Captain."

"_Spock_? What-?"

"Do not move."

Jim looked around confusedly, apparently registered were he was, and then gingerly looked down at me.

"Holy shit. I'm in a tree."

There was a trickle of red blood down his temple and soaking into his shirt, but he seemed otherwise unharmed, and when his eyes met mine I did not detect any hint of pain there.

"I'm in a fucking tree!" he exclaimed again, gaze moving from me to the earth far below. "How did that even _happen_?"

"It appears that you were launched out of the craft upon impact due to the fact that you sat at the very front when the glass panel was structurally compromised and you had refrained from wearing the seat-belt in favour of moving along the cabin unhindered. Captain."

"Right. Is everyone okay? Did we all make it?"

"All officers were effectively taken away and into medical care, no serious injuries."

A profound and weary sigh of relief made him slump against the trunk. "Thank God. Have you already informed the Starfleet council that representatives from the Enterprise won't be able to make the meeting?"

"Yes, I believe they were notified by the communications officer."

"Good. That's good. Without beaming technology we're pretty screwed in here, at least until someone lends us a new shuttle."

I had reached him at this point, by standing on a large branch that brought my head level with his prone form. Once I could examine him properly there was undeniable proof that the Captain was not, in fact, deceased.

"Spock?"

I wasted one moment before effectively suppressing the flood of relief let awash in my system.

"Spock, I'm fine," Jim added gently, and stretched out a hand.

His fingers were splayed and his palm was up, but despite the fact that I knew this gesture was not inviting or Vulcan in any way, relief was replaced by elation. Perhaps a consequence of not stopping but _delaying_ an emotional reaction to the fear of Jim's death; I took his wrist and pulled him bodily out of the precarious position he had been in, and into my arms.

"Put me down, Spock," Jim chuckled. "I said I'm _fine_."

I complied to his request and allowed him to stand beside me on the same, thick branch near where it met the trunk of the tree I was currently balanced on; an arm was kept around his waist purely for support.

"Really?" He gave a pointed tug at my sleeve and smirked. "I can stand. Promise."

His smile was confident and calm, and so I released him with no outward appearance of reluctance regardless of the inner struggle it required.

So when his knee abruptly buckled and he gasped, I had not expected it. And when he dropped sideways, like a leaden weight, startled eyes reflecting the sunlight and mouth open in surprise—

I caught him.

He did not fall, because I caught him. A grip around his forearm and a powerful tug, and he was dangling in the air, he was flying through it, he was back in my arms again. _Where he belonged_, whispered an inner voice angrily.

He clung to my form, shaking slightly, and hugged me, burying his face in it's usual place at my neck and whispering "Sorry. I'm sorry, Spock, I'm so sorry…"

The event lasted 6.992 seconds, yet the sudden shock of nearly losing that wretched Human had woken something.

"Spo—"

I wrenched away from the embrace and crushed his lips against mine, taking his fingers and sliding my own between them. Because the way I felt when we kissed was real, just as Jim was real, and solid, and he had mass and volume and density, and his lungs filled with oxygen and his heart pumped blood rapidly through his arteries and all of these things were evidence, evidence I could hear and touch, but for an unknown reason something more was necessary…

Something _more_…

At first his breathing was ragged and he still trembled in exhaustion or possibly adrenalin, but soon he returned my kisses with equal fervor, pulling me closer by tugging the golden collar of the ceremonial uniform and emitting low, desperate little sounds at the back of his throat. Then he locked his legs around my waist; a move which exponentially increased my respiration rate, and no words were spoken as I supported his entire weight while at the same time allowed the selfish exploration of his mouth and hands, thrills of reality bringing the hunger back to life, the hunger that existed uniquely for Jim; eternal, relentless, unending.

It was pathetic, how weak I was for this, how utterly vulnerable it made me, how shields dropped and layers and layers of protective logic seemed to fade away, and when Jim ground his hips against mine, seemingly unable to help himself, I could not stop an entirely undignified muffled cry from escaping my lips. Soon I had to disengage our hands and clutch several branches to regain support, as I was rendered deaf by the raging thunder of blood leaving the cerebral cortex and no longer irrigating my brain-

"Spock…"

I could never lose him, I could not contemplate the possibility of it, and too often I had been made to face Jim's fragility, his mortality, and I could _not_—

"Oh God, oh _God_ Spock we're in a tree…" he feebly pushed his large hands flat against my chest, but they only served as a reminder of his non-existent strength, his need for protection, which I would provide because I was never going to leave his side again.

"Spock, we're in a _tree_ and I just almost, guh, I just almost died, twice, and…" His nails dug into my torso. "And a large, large part of me can't even believe I'm talking right now but… but you need to _stop that_."

He took my face roughly in his hands and looked deep into my eyes. "Spock, I would continue, God knows I would love to keep going even if we're like twenty metres in the air and I almost died again, but I know you."

I could only look at him, at the cherished, precious face with blood trickling from one temple and beads of sweat running down his forehead.

"I _know_ you, and I know what will happen to you if we go through with this, and I don't want that. I need you. We won't recover from this, or at least I know you wouldn't… Think… really think about what I'm saying and you'll get… there. See?"

I held him up by his waist and disentangled his legs from around me, then set him down carefully. Thankfully there was no… there was nothing inside of me now.

"Spock…"

I was about to let him go when I realised what eyes clouded by emotion had not seen before.

"You are injured."

His weight was being supported solely by the right leg, and the smallest twitch of a facial muscle when his left foot impacted the branch gave him away.

"I'm fine."

"Your left knee appears to be unable to exercise any force."

"It's just a bump, I probably busted it—"

I impatiently leaned down and tore his black pant leg, to reveal a bloodied sight. He had fractured his rotula, possibly, and there were copious amounts of red liquid obscuring the wound, also a large, dark bruise around it.

"This does not constitute a 'bump'."

"Spock—"

Ignoring his protests I lifted him up by his waist once more until he was sitting on a branch above me, legs dangling in the air like a small child.

"You will stay here and you will not move," I instructed.

"_I_'m the Captain." A hint of annoyance was clouding his tone. "I give the orders here. And I don't need to be coddled, I said it doesn't hurt—"

"I am not concerned with your emotional state presently, Captain. Cease speaking."

"No." He glowered. "I _knew_ this would happen. Every time you let your defenses down, just for a second, you need to make up for it by flying off the other way. One step forward and then a bajillion steps back, Spock! Good thing I stopped you before we actually did anything or you'd never speak to me again!"

"Your health is at risk. This is not to do with any lapse—"

"You're calling that a _lapse_?"

"Affirmative, and I assure you that it is the last one."

He did not know that I was doing this for him. He did not want to understand that I, too, was aware of the fact that this was entirely my fault. He did not see that to stay away was to be my punishment.

Very well.

"All right. This is it, I'll stop hugging you."

"Excuse me?"

I had not intended that. My earlier speech had referred to anything romantic in nature, not the friendly touches which had so become part of our admittedly strange routine.

"Enough damn hugs. If you're gonna get like this every time, I'll stop. It's for the best; we can be better friends if there's less confusing shit going on."

But… but that would mean—

"Spock, you mean too much to me to throw our friendship away for selfish reasons."

His expression softened and he looked down at me with the sunlight framing his face, lighting it from behind.

"Deal?"

I nodded, once.

"Okay." He hastily wiped something from his eye and coughed. "Um… Spock?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"You realize there's like, a ton of people below us right?"

"Indeed, Captain."

"Can they see us?"

"Unlikely. Human eyesight is poor, and leaf density here will prevent them from establishing visual contact."

"So don't you think you should maybe… tell them I'm okay?"

He spoke with measured inflection, as though he was unsure of the use of humour at this time.

"Spock?"

"Yes, of course."

I took out my communicator and manipulated the dials to ensure reception, since there had been many problems with the radio-waves in this planet.

"Search-party, Mr Spock here. I have found the Captain. He is injured and requires special medical assistance to be brought down."

"_Well done, Commander! We__'__re working on it, stand by_."

"Spock out."

After that we did not speak another word to each other, although I felt Jim's eyes watching my face for the duration of the entire time we waited.

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**Well, hope that more or less clarifies stuff :3 Sexytimes in a tree...! I still can't quite believe I wrote that. Facepalming is a verb, right? ;D**

**Also I need to see those dress uniforms on Captain Fine and Mr Quinto like... now. Please? Who's with me?**


	20. Chapter 20

**A couple of nods to anons who I couldn****'****t thank:**

**Cait ****–**** Hai gurl! Just wanted to say, if you****'****re gonna write such pretty things about me in an awesome review, pleeease consider getting an account so I can reply to them? :D Love you!**

**l-girl ****–**** Tribbles? Tribbles **_**always**_** make sense! XD**

**SilverNY57 – Is it weird that I'd love to write that too? Angst is good for the soul, bb ;)**

**() – OMG thank you!**** *blushing and flattered***

**NimNiire – ROFL, I know! There's actually an icon somehwere that says "I must be a treehugger 'cause I wanna cuddle me some Pine" Hahaha**

**Ellwren – Well then I'm glad that cleared it up ;) Also**** thanks a ton sweetie!**

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**The Twentieth Time**

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During meditation there exists only serenity and the black-and-white alpha-numerical sequences of perfectly logical thought.

Recently, achieving this state had been much more strenuous, however, I had now accomplished it; submerged in the chaos of my own _katra_ and attempting to organise and structure it. The only minute distraction was in the form of a beam of light, the tentative link, calling, teasing in its very existence.

For Jim, I must sever it.

It would be an incredibly disagreeable experience, however I fully intended to take the psychic pain entirely upon myself, and Jim need not even feel anything. Need not even know the bond had ever… existed.

But perhaps it was to do with my own species' innate reluctance to harm other life-forms that, despite the fact that a telepathic union could not be alive, I was encountering a difficulty in my attempt. Breaking this innocent, pure tie to the man who represented… breaking this went against everything Vulcan. Tradition dictated I should have rejoiced its discovery, for bonds with Humans were rare and precious given their psi-null minds. And logic, logic dictated I should have separated emotion long ago and explained to Jim what I had done.

I would need to wrench it free. There was no notion equivalent to _cutting_ a bond… it needed to be extirpated from my mind, slowly and deliberately. There had been cases… this was not the first time an involuntary bond was created. They were never spoken of, but I had learnt of them, we all had, and ideally a healer would perform the separation. Presently I had decided that this was only a beginning, the merest hint of something that had not quite realised itself yet; I was theoretically capable of accomplishing the task alone.

Theoretically. If I could force myself to at least attempt it.

If I could obligate my mind to accept the idea of killing, of murdering the thing I longed so immeasurably that I could barely conceal the fear such an irrational emotion made me experience.

Why had this happened? For what reason had such a link formed between us? Reciprocation was not possible, so then _for what purpose_…?

I could not.

I could not do this.

Horrid, selfish creature I had become if I was unable to save Jim because this tie to him was what I _wanted_.

He must be told, then.

Already I had awakened from the meditative state, possibly some time ago, for there was no perfect logic, no serenity in thoughts such as these. So I stood from the floor of my quarters and decided to locate the Captain. The Human way to search for him would be to visit the places he frequented in the ship and expect to find him there; or at least to increase the probability of his being found first. I now had other means.

I followed the bond, like an echo, by lowering almost every mental shield I possessed and diving into the neuro-chemical level of telepathy.

As a consequence I could hear the low hubbub of Human thoughts, like a murmur outside of the room as every person's inner feelings were momentarily available to me. Obviously I had long ago been taught what courtesy would have otherwise dictated; how not to listen to them, and learning to block those voices out.

Through the faint traces of the bond, finding Jim was not problematic. His shield was still there but it was not powerful enough to withstand a slight push from a Vulcan telepathic mind. Despite the fact that its creator was obviously unaware of the little barrier's existence, I did not shatter it; Jim had been protecting himself reflexively and he had every right to hide his true emotions from me, those were not the ones I was searching for now.

Faint glimpses of his superficial impressions were easily caught, however: deep fatigue… a fond annoyance… a stinging pain in his neck…

Sickbay.

I exited my quarters and directed the turbolift to stop at Deck 5, where the Hospital Bay was established.

Once I arrived there, I discovered Dr McCoy tending two patients, neither of which was the Captain.

"Spock! What are you doin' here?" He exclaimed, startled, and raised an expressive eyebrow at the male nurse who appeared to be helping him.

"I believe the Captain is here, I wish to speak to him."

"You can't."

Since he had last said that I was hurting Jim the doctor had not voluntarily spoken to me if there was not a need for conversation related to our current mission.

"I mean, you can see him, just not talk to him."

"Is the Captain somehow impaired from speech? What is his status?"

Concern momentarily banished all other emotions. I had not expected Jim to be dangerously ill.

"He's fine, and he's in the private room in there." McCoy rolled his eyes and I was struck by a sudden flash of anger. "You'll see what I mean."

I immediately went to the door and typed in the First Officer's override code to enter.

"Capt—"

The soft hiss of the door swishing shut behind me was the only sound in the room; a small, square white location with a single bed against the wall at the center, where the Captain was… sleeping.

I approached the sight with deliberate caution not to make any sound that might wake him, and observed his resting form. I had seen Jim sleep on one other occasion; at the bridge, after the mission at Serpa II, when he fainted in his Captain's chair from pure exhaustion (at Bryn V he had woken before me).

Had I been prone to pondering upon his posture during unconsciousness, I might have hypothesised a graceless sprawl, occupying as much space as possible in the available surface. This was not the case. Jim lay on his side, partially covered in the starch white sheet, and almost curled in on himself, as though he was expecting to be struck by a blow that never came. His lips were slightly parted and I could hear the deep breaths rushing in and out, in and out of his lungs… and suddenly I saw my own hand was touching his cheek, and removed it with an immediate jerk of the offending limb.

There would be no meld today. No more mistakes.

I would come back at another time, and speak to him. But before I left…

I crouched down on my knees and leaned in to touch our foreheads together gently, resting my arms on the pillow. He did not stir at my actions and a feeling, perhaps an impulse, invaded my mind; the desire to ask for his compassion, to beg for it if necessary.

_Forgive me_.

I could not predict Human emotion. Anger was a distinct possibility, as was sadness or regret. And yet, having known the Captain for such an extended time now, I thought… he might be kind. Jim was headstrong and irrational and impulsive and Human, yes, also far more intelligent than he had at first lead me to believe. And he was very, very kind.

I opened my eyes and reached out a hand again, to rest it against his shoulder, so light as not to disturb him. His muscle and bone under my touch, the faintest hum of his pulse beneath the skin…

Then I stood up and bent forward, wrapping my arms around his body in a protective cocoon, undoubtedly an instinctive urge, still remaining despite centuries of evolution, to shield an innocent being from harm. I had not questioned the gesture, not contemplated it's significance until it was complete and he was once again being held by me, but on this occasion-

"Spock?"

The word was spoken more as a release of breath, and without the vibration of vocal chords; a mere whisper.

_Forgive me, please._

I could not answer.

_Please, Jim…_

"Spock." Again, an exhalation, and Jim's fingers curled around the fabric of my shirt and pressed me closer, fully over him. When he nuzzled my neck I copied the gesture for once, just once, the smell of his hair invading my nostrils.

After some time (no, I did not know the exact number of seconds) we both pulled away, and Jim looked at me wonderingly.

"Did you just _voluntarily_…?"

"Once you are recuperated I require a conversation with you, Captain."

"I'm fine, Bones just wanted to check my knee again…" He seemed to come to a realisation just as the door hissed open. "…and then the damn traitor stuck me with a hypo and made me sleep! What the fu—?"

"You needed it, you idiot."

Dr McCoy had entered the room.

"Mutineer!" Jim pointed theatrically.

"_Doctor_," the Human snapped back. An adequate moment for me to exit the room, which I began to do when the Captain suddenly sat up.

"Spock, wait, what just…?"

"We shall speak at a more convenient time."

"But…"

I emerged outside and nearly collided with Nurse Chapel.

"Mr Spock! Oh, I'm sorry—"

"You are not to blame for not foreseeing my movements, Nurse Chapel."

She smiled widely and raised a finger. "Would you mind waiting here for a sec? I need you to sign the new vaccine forms since Captain Kirk is currently indisposed."

"Very well, I shall remain here."

"Thanks!" And with a wink she left hastily.

Behind me, a conversation between Dr McCoy and the Captain was taking place, and short of covering my ears, I could not avoid overhearing it's content.

"What happened _this_ time?"

"It… it was Spock."

"I saw _that_. What did he do?"

"He… just gave me…"

"… What?"

A pause.

"What did he give you, Jim?"

"He gave me… he _voluntarily_ gave me…"

"If you're about to end that sentence by naming the rostral part of the Human body, I will murder you, I swear I will."

"God, no! He gave me a _hug_. A hug, Bones!"

"But I thought you'd been doing that for ages now…?"

"Yeah, but mostly I jumped him- jumped_ on_ him. He never hugged me."

"Wow, that's pretty big, for Spock."

"I know. Do you think he's sensed something?"

"You mean do I think he knows and decided to hug you out of pity? I'm a doctor Jim, not a fifteen-year-old girl." A sigh. "But.. no. That doesn't sound like him at all."

"But then why would he… I mean, this is Spock we're talking about. Spock _voluntarily_ hugging me. No freaky spores, no strange diseases… Oh God, he's possessed by an evil alien, isn't he?"

"Jim—"

"I have to go find him. I think that was his way of… I have to go find him."

I decided the vaccine forms could be signed at another time, and walked out of the room immediately.

But the sounds of rustling covers and the impact of Jim's feet against the floor told me he was not willing to let me go.

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**Before anyone asks, I****'****m already frantically working on the next (and LAST) one! Although there's an epilogue.**

**I****'****m torn between being unable to believe that it****'****s already over and gawking that I managed to do twenty-one chapters worth of hugs! XD**

***runs off to write***


	21. Chapter 21

**Here's what's gonna happen.**

**I still have the epilogue left to post. That should be up soon *crosses fingers***

**BUT I'm on vacation! This is awesome for many reasons, but one of them isn't that I don't have as much access to a computer as I'd like. (I promise Hate This is not forgotten! I'm in the process of writing the Great Big Final Chapter, although I'm afraid you might have to wait a tiny little bit for that since, like I said, limited computer time is limited :S)**

**HOWEVER! I'm very, VERY excited about my new monster slow-building fic, which I'll start posting meanwhile! It's called "Veritas" and I can't wait for you to read it! :D (/end self-pimp)**

**I'm terribly nervous, but also satisfied (contradiction much?) to present the final chapter of Every Hug!**

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**The Twenty-first and Twenty-second Times**

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"Spock!"

I increased my pace.

"Spock, I know you can hear me."

His insistent, stubborn tone seemed to indicate that the Captain was, indeed, recuperated, and fixed upon locating me. In that case I stopped, logically deciding that if he wished to speak to me, Jim need only follow me to the bridge.

"Ha! I knew it."

He clapped my back and whirled to stand in front of me in his (I theorised hastily put on) regulation trousers and all-black undershirt.

"Spit it out, then."

I was unable to summon any negative reaction at his tone; cheerful yet somehow with an undercurrent of determination.

"This issue is not to be discussed in a public setting, Captain," I informed him. Several crewmembers appeared to be under the mistaken impression that they had been successful in their attempts to eavesdrop on our conversation in a covert manner.

"Okay, we can go to my quarters then." He shrugged and preceded me toward the turbolift.

The doors hissed shut behind us and Jim directed it to the appropriate Deck, then turned around once more. "Don't you wanna know how I realised you've got something really important to tell me?" he teased.

"I informed you of the fact that I required a conversation three point two—"

"It was when you hugged me! _Voluntarily_! And I thought 'wait a minute, is this real life?', because, well, I was mostly half-asleep at the time and also—"

The lift had paused to admit two science offiers; Karl Jaeger and Lieutenant Doaa, whom I acknowledged with a nod and Jim greeted with a faint smile and an "At ease, gentlemen."

We both exited the space 6.115 seconds later, and upon resuming out pace through the corridors I noted Jim's countenance had become more reserved and almost… melancholy.

"In you go," he quipped with forced lightness. I refrained from commenting on his unexpected change of 'mood'.

"What is it, then?" was his instant demand, abandoning any pretense of good-humour once the door had hissed shut behind him. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I… it is a deeply personal matter."

"Huh?"

I gathered the impression that my statement had confused him.

"It is a… I believe the accurate term is… confession."

"… _Confession_," Jim repeated, now suspicious. "I'm not still asleep, am I?"

"No, Captain."

"Oh. You mean… is something wrong?"

I could not inform him accurately of the events unless he possessed the necessary knowledge of our customs.

"Are you familiar with the concept of a Vulcan telepathic bond?"

This time Jim's expression underwent a rather alarming transformation; from curious and kind-eyed to sickly pale, and distant. "Yes," he replied quickly. "Yes, is that what you wanted to tell me? That you're bonded with someone?"

"Yes Captain, I—"

"Really?" He choked out, staggering backwards as though I had struck him. For 0.746 seconds I expected him to react in despair, almost, a most irrational conclusion with no basis in visual evidence, which made me slower to reply that I would have ordinarily been.

And then: "Well, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"

There was a time when I could be certain that Jim was lying, before emotional complications and compromised relationships… an echo of this sense returned when he smiled and kept speaking as though no other news had ever given him such joy.

Something was indefinably wrong.

"A bond, wow! Isn't that almost like a marrige? Or a betrothal, at least?"

I was able to pin-point the source of my discomfort when I realised that his friendly tone was at odds with a strange sort of vacant helplessness in his eyes.

"Thanks for telling me, Spock! Means a lot that you'd think to give me the news before anyone else… so, who's the lucky girl? Is she Vulcan? Or Human?"

"Captain, he is Human, if you will allow me to—"

"That's great, that's… wait, _he_?"

"Jim—"

"You…!" He slumped down onto his bed in a graceless movement, as though his legs were simply unable to support him anymore. "_What_? But… but I always thought… I mean, life-long mates had to be… of the other sex, right? Same-sex relationships can't be… I mean, otherwise propagation of the species… you don't even believe in _love_! All that matters is passing on genetic information, isn't it? And especially at a time like this—" A hand was clamped over his mouth in horror. "Oh shit, I'm being an insensitive idiot again. I'm so sorry. I just—I thought you weren't… allowed. That it would be illogical. I always… I had no idea that you would actually consider… oh boy."

He rubbed his temples with two fingers, as if to soothe away a headache.

"It is not… frequent. However, choosing a bondmate is a logical process, and if the ideal candidate is not able to produce offspring then other means are possible at this stage in the development of genetic engineering and technology, Captain. My very existence is proof that the field has evolved significantly."

"Right. Of course. How stupid of me." A dry, racking laugh, more reminiscent of a cough, and then with some visible effort, another wide smile. "Well I'm very happy for you!"

"… You are not displaying the traditional attributes of Human happiness," I suggested after a short pause.

"Shut up, yes I am," Jim retorted defensively. "It's just… he'd better be awesome. If he's gonna try and deserve you… yeah, he'd better be pretty fucking amazing."

There was no logical reason for me to exibit outward frustration, or to expel the air from my lungs in a notable manner that might possibly be referenced to as a 'sigh'. But he had completely misinterpreted my words, and I knew I must correct this assumption with haste.

"Jim… bonds can be formed unintentionally."

"What?" He looked up, once again showing signs of confusion. "What's that even…? Why are you telling me this? What does that even mean?"

"It is a rare happenstance, however, it has been known to occur—"

"_Spock_." Jim got to his feet, planting them slightly apart in a firm stance and resting his hands on his hips. "Listen. If there's something you need to tell me, please, _please_ just say it. Be direct."

"I am attempting to provide you with the necessary information to ensure that you may comprehend what—"

"Just tell me!" Jim snapped. "I'm a pretty smart guy, I'm sure I can handle it. _Tell me_!"

"We are bonded."

There was a 3.901 seconds pause. "You and who?"

"Jim… we are bonded."

"Yes, I heard you the first time," He said impatiently. "You and…?" His voice trailed away. "Wait."

"Jim—"

"_Wait_. 'We' as in… you and me?"

At last, he understood. "Affirmative."

"_Affirmative_? B—_what_? Are you _kidding_ me? We're… but... how…? Does that mean…? But I thought bonds only happened when both…! But you don't… you _don't_, do you?"

"I am sorry."

An admittance, and the look in his eye told me he caught my mistake, even in his total panic he caught this small slip. There were many more to come.

"I did not know… I have already stated this. My apologies." I must regain control. Calm. Serenity. "I did not intend… I did not mean to harm you in any way. I did not mean to deprive you of a future life with a woman whom you could love, I did not mean to… to steal…" That word was incorrect, not fitting, not proper, I must remember who I was. Vulcan. "… my apologies again, I did not wish for you to—I only wished for your happiness. That was my only request."

And now I was lying. For I had wished for so much more than his happiness… I had chosen _him_, in his entirety, Jim in his laughter and his bravery and intelligence and—and listing his positive qualities would not be helpful in this instance, then for what purpose was I doing it?

"Forgive me. Please forgive me, I am sorry. I am… extremely sorry."

"Spock—"

"As a demonstration of my profound remorse and regret I believe it is also possible for an embrace to help you…? I believe it would be adequate?"

Jim took 0.244 lost, floundering minutes to summon a structured sentence. And the sentence was, with a disbelieving exhale of breath: "Okay then."

I advanced toward him and then paused. My hesitation was the result of warring impulses and the strange impression that this was, possibly, not 'a good idea'. It unfortunately lead to an undesirable, visible moment of indecision before my initial resolve prevailed and I was able to take him into my arms; careful to guide his head on the crook of my shoulder by positioning my hand on the back of his neck, careful with the superhuman strength pressed against his muscles, but perhaps not entirely careful—

As a touch telepath I could convey emotions through this embrace with ease (indeed, the more trying task was not doing so), however, that was not the process my instincts appeared to be following; that of providing, in all the confusion, some support, some metaphorical anchoring point to grasp and hold on to.

To this day I remain unsure as to whether it was meant for the Captain or myself.

"Spock," Jim said then, lips brushing tender flesh and how I craved the feel of his words against my skin… "Spock, I would really, and I mean _really_, appreciate an explanation right now. Because I'm freaking out and I don't even know _why_. So… um, you taking all this trouble to comfort me because of my tragically stolen innocence or whatever is great and all, and it's not that I'm complaining about the hug or anything… it's just that I don't know what you're apologising _for_."

Coherence often failed in the face of Jim's… in the face of Jim. Very well, my lack of clarity must be corrected.

"I see."

With one hand I pushed his body away carefully and in time to see Jim's lips clamp shut in what I suspected was an exaggerated manner, and then he stared at me, obviously expectant.

"Jim, this bond occurred without deliberation. I am aware of the fact that, despite my ignorance of its formation or perhaps because of it, I am to blame. Due to my… emotional compromise, I was blind to even my own… desires. At first."

His jaw dropped.

"However, now that I am aware of the situation, there may exist a solution to be found. It is theoretically possible to sever our bond—"

"You _idiot_."

I halted from my speech and waited, uncomprehending. Jim was almost shaking with laughter.

"Oh God, you _idiot_."

I did not know why I was being insulted, but it was extremely confusing to see Jim looking so violently ecstatic and saying 'idiot', simultaneously.

"Captain…?"

He threw his arms around me and buried his face in the hollow of my throat, limbs weak with uncontrolled mirth. I held him back without thought, utterly lost.

"You blind… you stupid _idiot_," he whispered passionately. I no longer had any comprehension of the situation; I did not know for what reason he deemed it necessary to call me 'idiot' on three separate sentences, nor did I presume to infer any meaning from the hug, which had been abrupt and unexpected.

If I asked, would he explain? Such contradictions, such illogic…

"I—I do not understand."

A stutter was unacceptable. I breathed deeply to calm any emotion and attempted to present the inquiry once more.

"If you would please explain, Captain—"

"I thought you knew." Jim pulled away by holding my face in his hands and grinning widely. "I thought you were being kind and polite, like always, and delicate and not mentioning it because you're so uptight and anyway how would anyone even start a conversation like that, right? But I swear, I swear I had no idea you were this… _dumb_!"

Hurt is… emotional hurt is more difficult to contain than physical injury, I have explained this many times before.

"Jim, I apologise for my inconvenient lapse in understanding, please clarify—"

"I love you, you _idiot_!"

Stillness. Silence. Concentration. Reflection and questions, so many questions.

He loved me? Was he lying? No, there was no purpose in—how could a Human love me…? How could a being such as _Jim_ love me…? Impossible. Was it possible? He had just stated it, obviously it was possible, if it was real, if it was factual, if I had not misunderstood, unless of course I was attaching an erroneous meaning to the word and Jim's meaning was not that of a romantic nature, or perhaps—

"_You're alive."_

_"Man, you're really something, aren't you, Spock?"_

_"You said I can hug you."_

_"Oh, it's my desire all right."_

"_Kiss me."_

"_I want Spooooooock!"_

_"I'm sorry. I'm touching you again. It's just so tempting!"_

_"I love that I can just do that whenever I want."_

_"I know you obviously don't feel anything for me in the… uh, romantic sense. I mean, we're friends, and I'm totally cool with that, I love that. It's great. I love being your friend. But if you were attracted to me, well, that wouldn't be a crime, or anything. Is what I'm trying to say. Because I—"_

_"I think you're really hot."_

_"I just admitted I'm attracted to you and you're not gonna give a little warning that you're about to take your clothes off?"_

_"Are you reading my thoughts?"_

_"Hug me?"_

_"I'm not saying I'm in love with you or anything!" _Not saying it... and not denying it, either.

Perhaps it was simply the truth.

"Spock? Is it gonna have to be learning by repetition? I love you. I don't want you to break the bond because I love you." He leaned forward, hands clasped firmly behind his back for reasons I was to grasp later. "I really, really want to kiss you, all the time, but I'm used to that so it's okay. I mean, if you need a moment, you can just keep standing there for a little longer. If you want."

I may be allowed to keep it, then, this infant of a link, this cherished tie…?

"… and although I'll admit it's a bit unnerving, I've probably still got another minute of not-kissing you in me somewhere…"

Such an elevated number of issues to consider. And then there, in front of me, Jim with brightness in his eyes. Jim, speaking nonsensical chatter to distract me, in all probability, still helping, even now, or especially now.

"… oh and also I'm sorry I called you an idiot so many times—"

"Four."

A low chuckle.

"Four times, then. Hey, your minute's gonna be up in about fifteen seconds," Jim grinned tentatively, looking at me from under his golden lashes. "You'd better say something before then or I'm gonna kiss you and I don't think I'm gonna stop. And you won't be able to complain because I just gave you fair warning."

Nine seconds, now. Not sufficient time to adequately express much of anything, not in eight, seven, six…

And so I said nothing, but allowed some of what was not being said to permeate my features, and Jim made an audible grunt or perhaps it was a repressed groan of frustration and on two point three seconds—

Our lips connected, and then parted to allow tongues to dance, and metaphors were not forbidden here because exact science was no longer enough to contain the extent of my emotions, because it became so impossible to deny that I had emotions when they poured out of my body with every kiss we shared, akin to tidal-waves of the Earth sea.

"You lied," I informed him the first time I allowed him a moment's separation to inhale oxygen. "You did not wait the previously established full minute before—"

"Shut up, Spock," Jim laughed. "I think we're both done waiting."

A most valid argument.

How delightfully _expressive_ Humans were; Jim was a song of moans and little hitched breaths and a low, low hum at the back of his throat which I now recognised. And his hands found mine soon after, and his thoughts sought out mine in a blind thrust, and the frenzy slowly unwound deep in the recesses of my mind until I was alert enough to fear its grip.

"Jim."

He drew back, rushing air being inhaled and expelled by his mouth like a thunderstorm.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I… you must take care. I may… I may not be entirely in control of… I fear doing you injury, or not… not possessing the ability to stop, should you wish that at any point—"

"No. No I don't think I'll wish that." Jim grinned, fearless when fear was necessary, when one must experience fear to remain safe. "And I trust you, Spock, in ways that you don't trust yourself yet."

"I…" It was illogical to encounter a difficulty in expressing a concept to him. And yet. "I feel…" Jim's eyes widened slightly, and he held his breath, gaze intently fixed upon my own. He must know. It was relevant and he had to be told.

"I feel fear, Jim."

There was that sound again, the weak, pained little cry before he kissed my lips.

"Oh God. Spock, you… I love you _so_ much."

Initially I questioned the relevance of that statement in the face of what I had just exposed, but as seconds passed and all Jim did was clutch my form with his large Human hands and breathe, comprehension began to dawn.

"Thank you," I murmured against his forehead, which was pressed to my lips. Reciprocation was perhaps necessary at this point. Suddenly I was flooded by the urgency to inform him of every detail, of the feeling I had dared to call love beneath toxic rain and which I now knew to be fuelling the connection we shared. "Jim, you are aware… you must be aware of my intentions… my intentions…" No, he was smiling brightly but no, that was not the correct word. But how to explain…

"I don't need you to talk to me about love, Spock," Jim said then. "I already know... I know that now. I don't need to hear constant assurances… just the one is enough. Just this bond, this… that's enough, and I'll tell you I love you as many times as you want to hear it (and I know you'll never actually admit that out loud but you _will_ want to hear it, and that's okay because I'm awesome and I can read your mind, literally), but with you… all I'd ask of you now is that you show me."

The bright smile evolved into a wicked grin, which was somehow brighter still.

"Show me."

I took his hand and was unsuccessful in my attempts to smother a kind of feeling I rarely found the need to fight. For Jim there had been many new experiences (never my usual, blissful indifference), and some familiar ones; anger first, as well as contempt, but over time had come respect, estimation, and... and now there was an unfitting, almost uncomfortably powerful _reverence_ for this man who was, after all, merely a Human male, and yet.

"Well if I am to demonstrate appropriately you must shed your clothes. Captain."

This certainly served to shock him.

"Yes, sir."

Not for long, obviously.

With admirable speed shirt, boots and pants were flung in various directions, and I noted my own increase in heart-rate and pupil dilation, mirrored by Jim standing there, breathing heavily and blatantly defiant in his beauty.

Although I was not unaware that one particularly conspicuous piece of clothing remained.

"Your turn."

"Perhaps later—"

"No way. You're eighty-seven percent covered skin. We're making this even right now."

I felt a positive reaction to what might very well be established as 'banter'.

"If you wish to make an equitable trade I may suggest fair terms..."

"Spock." Jim heaved a happy sigh "You should really know by now that I don't play by the rules."

And then suddenly he had leapt on top of me and tackled me to the floor, laughing delightedly, tearing at cloth and hair and I could feel it, unstoppable, a smile about to curve my lips, fuelled and flooded by happiness.

"So just... ha!" He dodged a strategic blow and ripped a sleeve of my blue uniform shirt. "Just to be... oof, clear...!" He was gasping for breaths now, laughter and exertion necessitating more oxygen to his lungs and bloodstream. I was not truly attempting to fight him off; indeed the knowledge that I could have did I want to, but _chose_ not to, seemed to be part of this game. "To be clear, you... I mean, I... ah, can... hug you again, yeah?" More fabric was ruined; how inconvenient.

"Jim, we have..." His giggle abruptly turned into a yelp when I rolled us over, pinning him down by his forearms. "We have embraced on twenty-two occasions. I am unsure as to whether this counts as the twenty-third."

"You kept _count?_"

"Of course."

He laughed loudly. "I never figured I'd be one totally whipped sucker," he said. And seeing my doubt, explained with a grin; "I mean, I never imagined you'd have the ability to drive me crazy with, frankly, rather indignant ease."

I kissed his lips delicately, trusting his earlier words still applied in this situation.

"Are you ready to concede defeat, then, and allow my garments to remain?"

Jim's response to this was to attempt to dislodge me by moving his hips. He did not succeed in that particular objective; however he did manage to elicit a rather _fascinating_ reaction with the motion...

"_Oh_."

"I love it when you do that. Keep talking," Jim ordered happily from underneath me.

"I... it... I..."

"Wow, Spock splutters incoherently. This is officially the day when the universe starts calling me Captain Awesome!"

"That scenario is... ah, highly impossible."

"There's no such thing as _highly_ impossible! Another win for me!"

"Jim—"

He kissed my lips again, longer, deeper, stirring too many responses to catalogue, and I released his arms and allowed him to sit up, wrap them around my neck, pull me down again...

There was no logic in remaining on the floor when, wasting but four seconds, these activities could be transferred to the more comfortable bed. There was no reason not to spare those few seconds, seconds that might be later made up for properly.

However, all I knew at the time was... there was simply _no way_.

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**Yes, I did a fade to black! (*hides*) I'm… sorry? But this story isn't about K/S having mad hot sex (oh God, is it? XD) it's about luuuurve and keeping its T rating, and unhealthy amounts of fluff and happy endings, which after all are **_**very**_** healthy, and hugs and kisses and angst and a **_**lot**_** of UST because I'm like that, so I hope you'll forgive me! ;)**


	22. Epilogue

**Well, Not **_**Every**_** Hug**

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**Epilogue**

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Spock said (in his own, wonderfully uptight Spock way) that I'm more or less allowed to touch him anytime I want now, which I found rather adorable since I probably would have done it anyway (like I need his permission to touch my… person with whom I may be more than a little in love with oh and also have sex and a telepathic bond… with).

And even though he did specifically say that hugs are never to be done in public (like I'd ever try and hug the guy on the bridge in front of some Klingons, right? Geez) I'm quite sure he was joking, because of the way his eyes glinted all dark and pretty like. Either that or it's because he likes them so much and he's, like, _so _repressed that being happy when other people are around makes him uncomfortable.

Obviously the first person I wanted to tell was Bones... but for some reason it turned out to be Uhura. To be honest, I'm not sure what I was thinking at the time, just that a sudden urge to say it made me, well, do so. She took it well. Almost annoyingly well, with a self-satisfied smile and a little nod, as though I was just confirming a suspicion she'd long had. Then, as was perfectly logical and expected, she went through the usual routine of threats (and I will admit to being rather impressed by their... inventiveness) until satisfied that my intentions were those of a perfect gentleman... ish (sadly, she was unable to maintain a straight face during that particular point. I was not insulted).

The country doctor was way more fun to mess with, so there was a rather long and drawn-out description of certain details before I actually got into telling him about the bond and my secret belief that I am now, most officially, married.

Really though, Bones is the best friend I've ever had and his gruff support was important to me. I still remembered the day he'd asked me to tell him the truth, when I was lying in a bed after eating whatever the hell it was that apparently made me bite Spock's ear. He'd known about my feelings for Spock probably before I had (again with the annoying), and then, once I'd actually admitted them, helped me out as best he could.

The rest of the crew found out very much on their own, since I considered an actual announcement for maybe half a second before deciding I'd rather jump out of an airlock than do anything as incredibly stupid as talk about my love life over the ship-wide communicator. Gossip being what it is, and free time abundant for a few days after the rumours began to spread, I had been congratulated by Scotty a mere week after it happened. And if Scotty knew, then everyone else knew as well, including the ship's computer, to which I dictated the official (and oh so excruciatingly embarrassing) letter to the Admiralty informing them of my new relationship with a crew member, in the interest of full disclosure.

Pike called soon after that, actually, and there followed a rather horrible conversation that included the words: surprise (the lack of), Vulcan babies, Pun Far (or something like that, but I'm convinced he made it up), bondage (I wish I was kidding), son, and the sentence 'You're so the wife', with which I am completely in disagreement, just to be clear.

Anyway, after that it was a matter of time before the nets picked up the story, so I called my mother. She cried. I didn't, thank God, and after we'd both got over ourselves there was much rejoicing of the best kind, which is the teasing kind, because Winona Kirk is a woman with an overdeveloped sense of humour and an easily contagious grin. Spock was there for that, mostly quiet, drinking all the Human expressions in, I suspected.

We haven't told his father yet, and I'm trying really, honestly really hard not to think about that (not to say that I've succeeded).

The telepathy thing is awesome. I'm still working on it, since it takes a very long time of hard concentration to actually do anything with my mind and I get a really bad headache after a while, but getting better. So far, Spock has taught me how to keep the barrier so we can communicate but he doesn't have to feel every single tiny thing that I do, and vice-versa.

That's not to say that we can't take it down during some periods of time, if you know what I mean. Heh. And the mind-melds are... uh, indescribable, I'm afraid. There's just nothing I could possibly say to attempt to convey what... how amazing, how ecstatic, how easy, how precious that feeling is. Some days, some bad days when I'm running on nerves and fear, remembering it (something so intimately ours and no one else's, like a secret) is what keeps me going.

To think this all began with an exhausted, adrenalin-fuelled embrace. Or perhaps it started before that, when I turned around one day and there Spock was, looking the same as usual but somehow completely changed and I thought 'Wow, he's beautiful.' Or afterwards, when we kissed with our hands on a foreign bed and I felt his consciousness begin to sink into mine, and it was bliss...

And maybe, just maybe, it will be all right, and we can stay like this, and tomorrow amidst confusing shouts and running shapes we will frantically search for the other until our eyes finally meet, and I'll run, run until I'm standing in front of him and he will fall against me, body curving in a perfect arch, voluntarily holding me, or letting me hold him, and a soft, relieved whisper; "You are alive" so low that I will barely hear him.

"Yes. Because of you."

_The End_

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**This was late! This was so so late but I have, like, the best excuse ever. I got food poisoning and had to go to hospital! It was bad for a couple of days but now I'm way better, and eating again which is always a good sign, but anyway, yeah, no writing whilst connected to an IV, I'm afraid! XD**

**Well, it's over! I just wrote this to wrap it up a bit more nicely and to give Jimmy his say, which I felt he deserved, and I hope he didn't dissapoint :) I can't even begin to thank you all properly for your support, jokes, kind words or just good ol' constructive criticism! Everything is appreciated and I may have mentioned this already, but I LOVE YOU WITH THE BURNING PASSION OF A THOUSAND SUNS!**


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